


Swan Song

by WhiteSwanCake (Courtorderedcake)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Captain Swan Cocktober, Cocktober, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Demons, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Film Noir, Myth and Lore, Once style, Seelie Court, Sirens, This is one of my babies, fae, with major fantasy overtones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16237964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courtorderedcake/pseuds/WhiteSwanCake
Summary: Set ambiguously in the 1920′s-1940′s in a world supposedly without magic, Detective Jones of Boston PD is a broken man with little more than liquor to keep him going. When a strange string of murders and ominous rumors about a new King of crime bring him face to face with fairytales, Killian is anything but ready to meet, “The Swan” - a Jazz singer who will upend his life. When he is forced to rely on her to help solve his case, they find secrets long buried that change everything... Not only for themselves, but for both the magical and human worlds they reside in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to wingedlioness, shireness-says, & gingerchangeling, who are quite possibly the holy beta trifecta of amazeballs. Lioness even made me an amazing banner I’m going to use next chapter, =3
> 
> Another kind and incredibly sincere thank you to initiala for everything she does in this fandom: This event aside, your passion, creativity, and overwhelming talent are awesome. You are awesome. You brought me to this fandom along with another two writers, and I am beyond giddy anytime one of you shares anything. I’m so addicted to your works, and I obviously love your wolf pieces, which were the initial (Hahahaha) reason I finally made a tumblr and forced myself to write. Thank you, very, very much.

_Liam’s voice rose over the rush of water, the grind of bulkhead doors ahead._

_“I’m right behind you, swim, go!”_

_“Come on!” Reaching his hand out, Liam grabbed his wrist. There was a scraping sound, and horror on Liam’s face before they were torn apart. Crimson swirling in the rising water, his wrist burning from the crush of metal that had run through skin and bone with ease. The noise of his own anguish, his hand and his brother’s sinking in the depths forever clasped…_

_**There was a boy... a very strange, enchanted boy...** _

Killian woke with another headache, glancing at his watch. He’d slept only a few hours again, his ears ringing like the whine of metal sliding against metal, even as he sat safe in his small apartment. Some days he would catch the scent of sweat or a certain cigarette brand on the street, just enough to pull him back into cold water and crushing pressure, noise, noise everywhere in the chaos, yelling from other men as shrapnel burst around them - them - them -

Liam.

He panted, opening his eyes and grounding himself back in reality, even as his ghost of a hand felt like it was balled into a fist. He rubbed his stump, willing the feeling away, and stood. He began his routine for the day by brewing coffee on the small stove. After a shower and dressing in his uniform, he poured a shot of whiskey into his coffee and started on his walk to his precinct.

It was a rainy morning, overcast skies and puddles along the streets. Boston was alive with the sounds of people, even as the cool weather of autumn started creeping in, his boots tracking water on the pale cement. The war had given him tinnitus in a terrible way, his ears sensitive to the sounds of the city. Children cried nearby as a woman shouted, laundry water sloshing in buckets as someone sang off key. Horses, carriages, and automobiles thundered across the streets as he walked further into the city, the lamp posts glass clattering in their mounts. He numbed it the way he learned from the brief memories he had of his father, treasuring each pay checks transferral into bottles, poured in turn into flasks or mugs. Sipping his coffee and savoring the burn, he frowned at a newspaper stand’s headline.

_** “Hindenburg to have National Funeral as Hitler ascends to Dictatorship; Army and Navy swear allegiance” ** _

Shivering, Killian tugged his uniform’s collar further over his ears as he walked up the gray stone steps into the precinct. The station buzzed with activity as he went to refill his coffee thermos.

“Detective Jones!” He looked up at his frowning captain, Nemo’s face more pensive than usual. “A word.” Killian finished filling his thermos as he followed the tall man into his office. A set of files sat spread on the surface of the wooden desk, competing for space with various pieces of driftwood or knick knacks. Sitting in silence only interrupted by the soft ticking of a clock in the corner, Killian surveyed Nemo as he stood in front of him with arms crossed.

“I have a case for you.” Nemo gestured a hand to the files, not looking away from Killian’s face while wearing a stern grimace. “However, I have to ask if you’re up for it. It may require you to give more than minimum effort.”

Killian grunted, trying to remember if he had a flask hidden in his desk any longer. Another Nemo lecture wasn’t numbed by this morning’s dose.

“I took a risk, doing you a favor by giving you a job here, like Liam wanted. What were you doing in London besides drinking away your family’s money? I need your mind again, this one is a doozy… You won’t be able to solve it by searching the bottom of a bottle.”

Killian rolled his eyes, nodding his head to the files. “What’s the case, then?”

Nemo stared at him a moment longer before turning to gather the stack of papers together, handing them over. “Three higher ups in the underground drug smuggling set, dead as of last week. Thought to be unrelated, at first, until our old friend Mr. Silver went missing last night. All found at various waterways around the city.”

“Mafia hits? They don’t exactly mind a drowning.” Killian shrugged.

“That’s the thing. The deaths aren’t from drowning. The men are... “ Nemo looked uneasy, a flicker of fear crossing his face. “Well, I don’t know what they are. It’s like they’ve been withered, or aged decades. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Killian grunted again, slouching back after flipping through the paperwork. “Any connection between them?”

“We have Malcolm Pann, of NL Holdings; Arthur Eldmelot of the Roundtable Group; your good friend William ‘Blackbeard’ Tell and now Silver.” Killian frowned. If he could pick a list of people that should disappear, those names would be on it before the ink could dry. “All four have contracted with the Mayor’s office, and all recently attended a large gala at a jazz club on the edge of the city. I’d like you out there first.” “A club? You’re having me go to, of all places, a club?” Killian’s lips pressed into a firm line, and the muscles in his jaw twitched. At least there might be liquor.

“I’m putting my trust in you to solve this. I thought you’d have a better idea of what the hell we’re dealing with or who might be next. You need to challenge yourself, get out of this. It’s been years, the world is moving on, and you’re not. You’re here to get better, I don’t have to remind you what happened in England before you -” Killian glared at him, and Nemo took a breath, stopping short and sighing. Nemo looked at him with pity, before walking to sit behind his desk.

Killian felt his muscles tense, but nodded, gathering the files and standing. “Aye aye, captain,” he sarcastically spat, before heading to his own desk. He didn’t bother to sit, throwing the files down on the meticulously straight and bare surface. Already branded a strange one for being a “Limey”, not having photos, not going out for a drink, or talking in the locker room about women hadn’t helped dissuade that reputation.

Reviewing the files, he felt annoyance flaring up again. He was going to have to head to the club in the evening, meaning a long and tedious day was laid out ahead of him. Focusing on narrowing down leads and contacts, Killian settled in, the noise of the office around him pulsing in his ears. At lunch he went to a quiet pub, his paycheck burnt on a refill of his flask and several pints. Anything to make the department quieter, make it easier to work. To make it easier to survive.

 

Pulling up to the club on the far outskirts of town, a nondescript sign on an older factory building hid the space, what was most likely once a speakeasy inside. He could already hear the strains of music playing inside as he approached, horns, piano and trumpet easy to pick out. The familiar whine crept into his ears, the gravel under his feet replaced by smooth wood flooring and laughter and voices filling the space. The lights were low with assorted tables and booths around a small main stage where a band played, and he sat at one of the tables to survey the building.

A waitress leaned on his table, staring up at him with large eyes as she licked her lips. “Can I get you anything, honey? Show’s about to start.” Her voice was bubbly, excited. Killian sighed, and smiled as charmingly as he could muster. “I’m new here, what do most people enjoy?” he purred. He watched her eyes light up in interest. “We have an excellent selection of whiskey, gin, and beer, but most people...” She sighed with a look of annoyance. “Well, most people come to see her. The Swan.”

He’d scoured over leads for hours earlier in the day, putting in visits to contacts that might spare him a visit to the club. No one had heard anything concrete, which wasn’t unusual with the snitch crowd, but there was an added air of unease to even the most hardened of the criminals he spoke to. They had mentioned a looming presence that had crept into the city, one devout Catholic Irishman kissing his cross while stating that whatever had come to Boston to take lives of the higher ups was a demon straight from hell. ‘The Swan’ was not a fitting name for a demon.

“Ah. And just who might that be?” He leaned forward on his elbows, just in time for a spotlight to appear on the stage as lights were turned off in the wings. The waitress pouted, standing and brushing off her apron and dress. “I’ll bring you two fingers of rum. You’ll need it after her.” She stalked off as soft music began to play. She returned with a tumbler, as his eyes were drawn to a woman sauntering on stage.

Her blonde hair was pinned to fall down her neck in curled columns, a red dress clinging to her body in places emphasized by beads that sparkled under the lights. Even from his table he could see her eyes shine, looking right at him. People whooped and hollered around him, but she kept her soft gaze of bright eyes on him, opening her mouth as the music swelled.

Her voice, it was heaven, his ears not ringing any longer but rejoicing as she sang. Killian’s mouth went dry. He grasped the perspiring glass in front of him, fumbling with trembling hands as he brought to his lips, his prosthetic actually causing him pause for the first time in ages. The room seemed to take on more darkness while she took on more light, colors more vivid, the burn down his throat more prominent.

_“Sometimes when I_

_Wanna run away and hide_

_When there's no one on my side_

_And all my pride has disappeared_

_I take it off my mind_

_And leave it all behind_

_Nothin' left to do but_

_Try to take the leap and follow through_

_And that's exactly what I'll do”_

Her voice touched notes in his memory of things he’d loved at one time in his life - velvet, water after none for days, the first home cooked meal after traveling... The music sped up and a sensation of the weightlessness of being underwater made him blink his eyes. For a moment the world turned upside down, and throwing back the last of his drink he tried to clear his vision. Looking up, he saw her floating, her eyes bright and burning the green of summer storms at sea.

_“I know to you I don't seem very strong_

_But I assure you before you can find me I'm gone_

_So come on and catch me you've still got a chance..._

_Although I may have crossed the line_

_Even if you think I'm in the wrong_

_Just know that_

_I don't wanna wait around anymore_

_Even if you can't see_

_The good inside me_

_I don't have the time to tell you_

_Why I do the things that I do_

_Just please hold on and soon you'll see_

_That I'm not the villain I appear to be.”_

He blinked and she stood again at the microphone with a bow. The Swan had finished, the crowd was uproarious. And Killian…

Killian felt the most alive he’d been in years. When he shook of the feeling of awe, he stood to find her to ask questions about the place, if she’d seen anything, if she’d sung for the gala, or if anyone was out of place. Someone tugged on his sleeve from behind before he made it a few steps, The Swan standing behind him with a look of confusion as she nervously twirled her necklace in her slender fingers.

“You’re new,” she whispered, somehow still clear and crisp over the noise of the bar. Looking at him for a moment, her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re… different.”

Killian felt his cheeks and ears go red, unnerved by how the presence of the woman watching him expectantly was affecting him. “Detective Jones. Do you have a minute?”

Looking down and biting her red bottom lip, she took a tentative step forward. His body thrummed, electric even as the hum of the crowd died around him and all his attention seemed pinpointed on her.

“That depends.” Her eyes flicked upward, something lurking behind them that made him uneasy in the far back of his mind, the instinct of fight or flight that was unneeded with no threat. “What type of minute do you need? I may have one, I may not.” Another step and they were practically toe to toe. She cocked her head, searching his face for something as her hand touched his elbow. Unable or unwilling to flinch away, an onset of unsteadiness caught him. She hummed lowly in thought, and the air felt thicker, skin prickling into gooseflesh. He felt unmoored, left to sink in bottomless depths of green that flickered, and hair that seemed to swirl around her face. Killian summoned the last bit of strength, pulling away from her gaze.

“I need to ask you some questions. At the station.” He took in sharp breaths, his body fatigued as if he’d just been in a fight. Looking back carefully, The Swan smiled at him ethereally.

“You’re like us.” It was a whisper that rippled through the air around him, her lips barely moving if they moved at all. She was wrong in this place, and so was he for being near her, the strange shimmering overlay like having a foot in a different world while the other stayed planted on solid ground.

_“Liam, Liam wait!” Killian called out across the green field, his feet flying to catch up with his brother._

_“Hurry up, come on!” Liam yelled back, shouting over his shoulder._

_“_ _D_ _on’t let it get away!” Killian pushed himself, the world around them shimmering in the sunset’s light, golden spears shooting down on patches of plain as they ran. Colored mist shifted from the woods, slowly moving out as his brother lead them in. Liam stopped in the thick woods, Killian just behind, and pointed to a thicket where the creature the sought lay. A small, shivering, pale, four eyed creature looked up at them with its black eyes wide, hissing as they approached. It’s skin was a pale blue, and it seemed to have wings similar to a dragonfly, the colors hypnotic._

_“What is it Liam?” Killian whispered, fascinated. His brother, brave as a lion, picked up a stick and moved closer to the agitated creature. As he drew closer, the woods shifted, Killian and Liam falling back as the world spun and the creature gave a shrill cry, answered by dozens more farther off._

_When they were able to move, the forest was alive with color, strange shadows and creatures staring at them as they scrambled away back home. Killian glanced back, looking at the tiny creature they had chased, watching another of its kind, larger and a darker blue, pick up the creature in a firm embrace. The woods closed around them, suddenly dull and lifeless as they broke from the treeline into the plain._

_At home, their mother listened enraptured by their tale, her face relaxed and contented as she stroked her son’s hair in bed. They were asleep when their father returned, mother leaving her bed to speak with him in low tones, her voice echoing in Killian’s head like she was right next to him._

_**Pretend to be asleep. Do not get up.** _

_He heard his father’s drunken roar, and the crack of his hand in time with his mother’s cry, the noise a sharp pain in his head. Liam flinched, a brief glance in Killian’s direction. They both closed their eyes as their father’s boots drew close, the door slamming open. After a tense moment, his father closed the door again, satisfied they were asleep._

_In the morning his mother was at their mortar and pestle early, mixing something that let out a beautiful rose vapor. She spread it on her black eye and bruises, and Killian watched them disappear. “_

_You’re different than your father, Killian. Both of you, my sweet boys, my sons, are different. You will never be like him. You will be free.” She sighed and looked at the plain cuff around her wrist before smiling again. “Now who’s up for some biscuits?” She coughed as she cooked, fetching a kerchief when the racking in her chest became too much. Another cough and wheeze rattled her, kerchief pressed to her lip_ s _as her boys ate. Turning away from them, she stared at the blood pooling on the white surface._

“What…?” the word came out as a low rumbling growl, as he startled from the memory.

“When will you need me, Detective?”

 

Killian’s departure had been hurried, a blur of him practically running to his car, and returning to the precinct. In the washroom, he braced himself on the sink, cold water running as he wet his face again and again. He needed to go home, get some sleep, drink - anything to prepare himself for seeing her tomorrow. She’d agreed to meet him in the morning for questioning of her own will, the strange power she held broken once her fled her presence. He was not looking forward to being under it again or having such little control.

Even as he’d left he felt compelled to look back, her eyes catching his with a furious curiosity that crackled through the air, his face hot with a feeling like he’d been slapped. Returning to her rounds, men wilted before her like unworthy flowers; where she was a rose, they were dandelions.

He didn’t go home, instead pacing in the mostly empty precinct, finding the spare flask and downing it without coffee at one point. He prepared questions, reading them over and over again in his once flowery script, now quick, careless scratches on paper. He didn’t sleep. He drank, trying to drown out the voices in his mind, a low hum joining the fray, feminine and like a silk scarf down his spine.

The Swan arrived at just before nine, hair pinned back with a jeweled cap, loose tendrils brightening her face like gossamer ribbon, a silver day dress hugging her body, and a man on her arm. The entire precinct stopped it’s daily workings. As the Swan looked down at her dove gray boots, demure and overtly feminine, her spell fell over the precinct like a warm breeze.

The man on her arm separated from her, practically pushing her forward and away. Killian felt a strange awareness of the man being disgusted with the angel before them, his implacable face holding something shrewd, calculating, and anciently wicked behind his barely upturned smile. He was dressed in an obviously tailored suit, his cane shining with a gleam of gold that seemed to also shine in his eyes, the pupils for a moment looking almost… reptilian? His gaze was broken by the rush of the other men in his presence scrambling without pretense to see their visitors.

Killian watched as the bullpen rushed to see if they could help the lady Swan, who politely shook her head and shyly said she was meeting someone. Killian stood as Nemo walked out of his office to greet the visitors as well. The world Killian had once lived in began to unravel, reality bending around her like her slim form had walked through a sheer curtain, layers of real and her bizarre magic twisting around each other.

“And you must be Mr. Gold! So sorry about Detective Jones’ inquisition, we were just checking boxes, you know,” Nemo boomed. He clapped the visitor on the back, stepping forward forward. Killian watched the movement create ripples in the air, Nemo’s hand exploding in a shower of unseen sparks on impact. The visitor, or Mr. Gold, glared. When he saw Killian looking at him, he softened the glare into a greasy smile.

“Check all the boxes you need, Captain Notliss. Miss Swan, my talent, is still happy to answer Detective Jones’ line of questioning. I’ll just wait for her. I am willing to submit to questioning as well, if need be.” Smoke the color of long left bruises pooled around the man’s feet, flooding the room, and Killian concentrated trying to rid himself of these illusions. Gold winked at The Swan, whose demure face wavered for a moment into something that might have been disgust.

As Nemo took Gold into his office, Killian watched in interest as the blinds on his door closed as well.

The Swan sauntered over to him with a gracious hello, smoke parting around her and to his surprise, lapping a few inches away from him.. “Good morning, Detective Jones. Where might you be questioning me?” He took a deep breath, and lead her to the small interrogation room, willing his mind to settle. She sat across from him, smiling serenely, unaware that she was the cause of his mind’s loss of reason.

“Alright, Miss Swan -”

“Emma.” As she folded her hands in her lap, he listened to her name echo in his mind beautifully, chiming in a soft melodic tone.

“Alright, Emma. I’ll keep these brief and to the point. You can request to leave at any time, you are here insofar of your own volition.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Killian cleared his throat. “Where were you the night of the,” he checked his notes. “The Midnight Gala?”

“There. Singing, of course. I’m always singing.” She looked down, playing with her necklace. Her fingertips sparked in his new found double vision, white zaps like socks on carpet.

“Did you see anything or anyone out of place?”

She laughed, and ran a hand through her hair, flicking her eyes up at him.

“I wouldn’t know.” Emma whispered softly, an underlying sadness there that he could feel.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Miss Swan, why wouldn’t you -”

“Do you know what it’s like to be out of place, Detective Jones?”

“Pardon?” He felt unease at the strange and hard look she gave him, as if she was sizing him up.

“You’re out of place. You drink to forget, you know things you shouldn’t, hear and see things that you deaden with mundanity,” she whispered, as the room began to spin. “We’re alike.”

Killian heard her sing lowly, the lilting melody so hypnotic his limbs immediately felt leaden.

_“There was a boy_

_A very strange enchanted boy_

_They say he wandered very far_

_Very far over land and sea_

_A little shy and sad of eye_

_But very wise, was he_

_And then one day_

_One magic day he passed my way_

_While we spoke of many things_

_Fools and kings_

_This he said to me_

_The greatest thing_

_You'll ever learn_

_Is just to love_

_And be loved, in return”_

Glowing green eyes that were so sad filled his vision, before warm breath puffed by his ear, his view now half hidden by golden hair. Emma murmured a secret for him only, the most important thing he needed to remember and nothing else, nothing but this - “You and I had an interview. I am innocent. You found nothing. You remember nothing else.” Stroking his cheek, nails gently scratching through his unshaven stubble, she bent closer to him. “You’ll sleep more, drink less, take care of yourself. You don’t have to be afraid.” Emma’s eyes became glassy, and she swiped at them.

The words curled around his thoughts, twisting and tangling his memory. As she pulled away, there was a shimmer, and he could see her again for what she was. Bruises on her wrists, and a bruise below her eye. Even with his eyes drooping, he reached up and fought to touch her face, stroking the yellowed flesh with his thumb.

“You’re… hurt.” His words were slurred. She blinked, pulling away quickly in fear, then fascination. Lifting his chin with her finger, his eyes drooped but he heard her words.

“If you can resist my influence… Find me again.” She kissed his forehead lightly, and he fought to remember as her words tried to change and rearrange his thoughts.

He woke up at his desk, hours later, notes scrawled hastily about an interview he barely remembered. He tried to hold on to it. Like sand through a sieve, the dream escaped him. He looked down at his notes, his once neat pad of paper now a mess of a string of words repeated across the pages. Looking at the scrawled sentence, clarity returned to parts of his memory with sharp focus. There was no question of where he needed to be - if not today, then soon - and he shrugged on his jacket to head home while throwing away the words on his notes.

_“_ _Find me again.”_

 

Killian found himself driving back to the warehouse club again on a windy Thursday evening, almost three weeks later. He couldn’t understand why he felt the need to, it was far out of his way even for entertainment. He had thought about sending another officer to fetch her, or going during the day, but the ideas seemed wrong when he heard her echoed voice in his memory. He didn’t understand that either. He only knew that the low throbbing in his mind had replaced the tinny whine of war in his nightmares, terror falling away into serenity as her voice whispered to find her again. In new dreams her song brought him moments of long sought comfort, and caused heat to lick his skin deliciously.

Her lips on his, his tongue in her mouth while his hands tore away red satin, finally touching flushed pale skin beneath the bodice of her gown. Roaming again, every inch of her pliant under his fingers while her moans and whimpers urged him to do more, to take more, drink every second of the moment in while he could. The soft flutter of her eyelashes against his cheek, giving way as he slid to lick winding trails across her neck, the dip in her collarbone, sucking each nipple before pinching them into pebbled peaks, following down to press soft kisses to her belly button and down further to taste her, finally savor and lap at her heat. Her breath came in pants while she pulled his hair, whispered words of how good it felt, how good his tongue felt, his mouth the only one that could make her tremble, sucking wickedly where she needed him most, so close to -

Killian couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken to wetness on his belly, pooled mess that clung to him and the threadbare sheet. His best ventured guess was as a green lad after kissing some girl by the docks for what felt like ages, or more embarrassingly in the small bunks on the warships they frequented in the Navy. It had been years, and none were ever so vivid, usually leaving him hard and aching with his release still far off. These new dreams had caused an increase in his laundry budget, his eyes not meeting the older neighbor when he handed off or picked up laundry three times a week instead of once.

His first sight of her stole any thoughts away, the glow on her skin from the dim candles catching the silver combs in her hair, pinned to roll in waves over her shoulder. White feathers and silver beading came together in a sheer dress, applique covering the only unexposed skin over breasts and below her navel. Killian kept her in his line of sight as he searched for a place to sit, watching her whirl around as if she sensed him. The thrumming murmur of the club fell away around them, replaced with the softest whisper of song, the hum of a feminine voice clearer now as she pointed to a table with a reserved card placed on it.

“You actually came back…” she whispered, breathless as he sat down in the plush seat. Her eyes were wide, a genuine smile lighting her face. He didn’t understand how he knew she was actually excited to see him, but the feeling was mutual - since her visit the two views of the world had been quieter, noises softer, and he'd had several nights of decent rest. Absentmindedly, his hand wandered to his prosthetic as a phantom pain crept in, and he caught a look of surprise briefly cross Emma's face. She looked down at her own hand, flexing it briefly, and smiled back at him. Killian was surprised to feel the pain subsiding, brushing it off as a strange coincidence.

“I… I, er… I have some further questions I need to ask, Ms. Swan.” He could smell her, the perfume she was wearing so beautifully fragrant. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced; it was beyond his comprehension how the sea, flowers, honey and vanilla came together.

“Of course, Detective. Please, call me Emma.” She sauntered over to him, and his mind went blank and skin warm as he saw the flash of her leg under a thigh high slit in the glittery fabric of her dress. “I have a song coming up, but then I’d be happy to. Please, make yourself comfortable, and if you’d like a drink -”

“No drinking this time, I’m afraid.” He scratched behind his ear, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. “Last time your bartender poured heavy handedly, leaving me a bit out of sorts. I still haven’t recovered.”

Emma smiled, something behind her eyes that looked like pity. “Oh. I’m sorry… I’m sorry that happened.”

“Swan! You’re up,” yelled a man from the wing.

She stepped forward, a light hand above his heart as she leaned into him. He felt weak, light headed. “Keep your questions in mind, Detective, and listen closely.” Her whisper somehow tasted like sugar, his mouth going dry when her eyes met his. “Enjoy the show.” Emma gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before walking into the wings of the stage.

The reserved table was close to the stage, and he felt an anxious feeling of expectation sit heavily in his chest. When Emma stepped into the light, the very air changed. Looking right at him as she began, her voice surrounded him, flooding every one of his senses. He was alive, so alive, Emma’s words taking his pain as they painted his skin with the softest touches.

_“Someday he'll come along_

_The man I love_

_And he'll be big and strong_

_The man I love_

_And when he comes my way_

_I'll do my best to make him stay_

_He'll look at me and smile_

_I'll understand_

_Then in a little while_

_He'll take my hand_

_And though it seems absurd_

_I know we both won't say a word”_

The light shimmered around her as a glow radiated from her body, he could see her for everything the jeering crowd couldn’t. A dream-like surrealism took over his view of the stage, dueling realities trying to reconcile themselves again, back with force. In one her hair and body moved with unseen wind, and her eyes were bright emeralds lit by an unseen glow. In the other, a raucous crowd cat-called as cigar smoke hung in the air, unaware that the beauty in front of them moved as if underwater, her dress rippling as her feet floated slightly off stage.

In both realms of his vision, her voice echoed in his head, like a feather caught in a soft breeze.

_Can you see me, for the truth of what I am?_

Killian’s mind answered as natural as speaking through his lips.

_**I can see you. What are you?** _

_What are we? After. I’ll tell you everything after. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the banner from WingedLioness! She's the best. 
> 
> Sex ahoy.

Cleared out, the club seemed like a cave chamber or the belly of some metal beast. Low murmurs from the staff as they cleaned echoed off the walls in a low grumble. It helped keep them oblivious to Killian and Emma sitting at a table behind the wings of the stage, Emma’s face softly sympathetic as she poured tea for the obviously rattled man before her.

“Killian, I know this is a shock -”

“A shock?” Killian laughed darkly, an edge to his clipped tones. “Bloody fucking hell, Emma. This is a little more than a shock, having to sit there and pretend everything was just fine while finding out that you’re some…What even are you?”

“I’m a siren. As are you,” Emma said simply, sipping her tea daintily. “I don’t know how you didn’t know; did your parents not tell you?”

Killian felt rage boiling up from somewhere buried deep, pressed small and forgotten with purpose.

_“Mum, you need to lay down. Please.” Liam’s voice plead softly as Killian peeked down the small hallway that lead to her room, watching his mother lean on Liam. Killian put his pencil down, ignoring is homework. He hadn’t seen his mother in what felt like days, her presence like a ghost since she’d caught a summer fever. Papa had been furious to come home to Liam and Killian’s best attempt at dinner, tins of beans on toast, but the hacking cough that came from their room was enough to send him to the pub for the night instead of doling out punishment._

_“Sweet boy. I need to get dinner on, your Da, he told me he’d whip you both if I was still lazing about -” She stumbled, and Killian stood, helping Liam by bracing her other arm. She laughed lightly, turning to look at Killian, his white school shirt the same color as her pallid skin. “Oh, I’m just a little dizzy, it’s fine boys, I’m fine, please -”_

_Another cough made her frame shake, her body going limp and Liam catching her, Killian staring at the wet crimson stain that was pooling on his shoulder._

“My mum died when I was 9, and my father... “ Killian swallowed hard, unwilling to choke out the words that caught in his throat. “He didn’t stick around long.”

Emma reached across the small table, her hand holding his, fingers gently brushing over his knuckles. “I’m sorry. If either one of them sang, or you could hear them without speaking, they were probably a Siren, or something of its ilk. The old world has a lot more mixed blood than here. I couldn’t even sense that you were one of us until I was close to you.”

“Probably mum then. She loved to sing, and her voice was enchanting.” Killian sipped at his tea, letting the steaming liquid burn his mouth, trying to forget. _The casket was lowered into the earth, autumn leaves falling to join her in rest._

_Killian had found her, Liam and him both taking care of her as she insisted she do the work for fear of the whipping their father would give. She’d faltered so many times, crying and pleading, her husband refusing to punish her. Instead, he hurt her in the worst way he could, her children staring at her sobbing form as she tried to stop him, clawing at his pant legs, too weak to stand._

_“I’m sorry,” she coughed, clutching her chest as it heaved. “Please, Brennan, I’m trying, don’t hurt them, please!”_

_The whip cracked down and she screamed, watching her boys take hard lashes across their backs._

_“I am your husband. We are honor bound by our vows, and the traditions of my family. You cook, you clean, you raise these boys to men. I spend my time at sea fishing to bring home enough coin for you to live well. You sing. You fulfill your wifely duties, in sickness and in health, Alice. Get up. No Jones women ever drowned in their own sweat.” Their father snarled, pulling her up and pushing her into their bedroom. Killian heard him leave for work in the early morning, taking his breakfast in a bottle and slamming the door. Liam stirred, and they both wen to check on their mother. Lying quietly and letting out wheezing breaths, she smiled serenely at them as they laid in bed with her._ _“The water is wide I can't cross over_

_And neither have I wings to fly_

_Build me a boat that can carry two_

_And both shall row my love and I_

_There is a ship and she sails the sea_

_She's loaded deep as deep can be_

_But not so deep as the love I'm in_

_I know not how I sink or swim_

_Oh love is handsome and love is fine_

_The sweetest flower when first it's new_

_But love grows old and waxes cold_

_And fades away like summer dew_

_Build ye a boat_

_That can carry you_

_And I shall swim with you into the deep_

_My love and I with no wings to fly_

_My love and I sink as deep as the love we’re in”_

_Liam and Killian fell into peaceful sleep, hearing their mother’s song as she dozed herself._

_**I love you, my sweet boys. Remember always, you are different than your father. You are free.** _

_Killian woke to the sun in his eyes, Liam taking care of chores no doubt, their new routine to keep their father at bay requiring focus on every household task. Looking at his mother’s peaceful face, he went to get her a glass of water. After pumping the water into a glass, he tried to gently wake up his mother, only to find the serene face she wore would be his last memory of her smile._

“Regardless, you were denied your agency in the world humans can’t see. Or, well, are supposed to not see. Some can and it’s quite the ordeal. Let me guess. For years you’ve had echoing ears, hearing noises that weren’t there or noises being louder than they should be? Muffled whining? Seeing shadows or blurs that you can’t explain? If you were taught what to do, you wouldn’t have that.”

“So, I’m not crazy for seeing the sparks, or fog?” Killian asked, staring at her hard. Emma shook her head. “I’ll be happy to show you too, I’m allowed to go to the market in the mornings a few days each week. For now, I’ll say that tonight, if you see anything strange, focus on it with your mind, not your eyes.”

“The hell does that even mean?” KIllian scoffed, scrubbing his face with his hand. Emma rolled her eyes, her lips a thing line.

“Just try it, ok? Tomorrow morning, are you free? Come walk with me in the market, I’ll show you he different species, you can meet some of my friends. I’ll help you navigate this. The more you can see and hear of that world, the less damage these attacks on your hearing and sight will do, and they’ll be less frequent.” Emma chewed her lip looking up at him. “Tomorrow it is, then.” He sighed, and Emma burst into a smile.

 

The address Emma had given him led to a non-descript area of North End, the brick buildings doing little to protect from the sleet that poured down from the gray clouds above. Killian stuffed his hand further into his jacket pocket, his scarf wrapped tightly around his collar, leaning on a wall. A bright yellow umbrella cut through the gray, Emma’s hair long and loose against a plaid wool skirt ending at her ankles

and matching cardigan, a cream blouse tucked in at the waist with a shimmering emerald broach around the neck. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were wide and excited as she approached. “I’m sorry I’m late, I ran into some trouble leaving but it’s all taken care of now. Come on, this way.” Taking his hand in one of hers, umbrella in the other, she pulled him towards a small shop without a sign. His eyes drifted to her profile as his vision suddenly blurred, a yellowing purple bruise on her face flickering then disappearing. She turned to him, grinning, and his concern was forgotten. “Alright, here we are. Welcome to Faemarket.”

Killian snorted, looking at the small shop, the window box empty, its wallpaper peeling as what remained of a mannequin lay toppled on it’s floor. “Alright then. I suppose creatures are known for their need of shattered mannequins and dust…”

“No, no. Come on.” She tugged his hand, pulling open the wooden door and tugging him inside. The doorway was dark, far darker then it should have been, a liquid ink that enveloped his sight in pitch. There was an intense feeling of vertigo for a brief moment, and he found his eyes closed, creaking one open to see his vision blurring, double sight slowly correcting to what was once his perfect vision. They were in a small rounded alcove, a fountain bubbling cheerfully in front of a large flat wall that seemed far too tall to be spatially possible. Cobblestones filled the small courtyard, strange blooms marking a path to wind around a sharp corner that he couldn’t see past. Emma was hanging her cardigan and umbrella nearby, humming softly as Killian looked up to bright blue sky above. “What…?”

“You won’t need your coat or scarf, come hang it here by mine. The hooks are enchanted.” Emma made a motion to the wall where hundreds of hooks hung, holding coats, umbrellas, hats or just gleamed in the sun empty. He blinked. Placing his coat and scarf, Emma made a motion and Killian watched as they moved up the wall, replaced by two empty hooks. Emma smiled at him, trying to hide her glee at his stupefied face and sputtering. “Oh. That’s -” He carded a hand through his hair, ending in scratching his neck while his brain worked overtime. “This?” She made a gesture at the wall. “Nothing. Come on, and close your mouth - you look like a fish, and the merchants will tease.”

Pulling him to move around the corner, color exploded in his vision. Hawkers yelled on the cobblestone street, beings of different colors, heights, and what could only be described as substances talking in different languages, holding up apples or what looked like cherries if cherries changed shape in your hand, bargaining for the best price. Something was frying nearby, the sizzling sound unmistakeable, and a several armed man was twirling skewers in bright pink oil. Rows and rows of carts lined the huge square, shops marking a perimeter in various architecture. Mist and smoke swirled under people’s feet or straight from people’s hands, and as Emma pulled him forward Killian saw a bearded man smoking a pipe, blowing out a smoke model of a ship with a smirk. “How?” He wondered out loud. Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. This is not at all in a Siren’s wheelhouse. Our magic is much more abstract, instinct based, primal. This is witchcraft or sorcery, some type of planar bonding.” She waved a hand absentmindedly. “Anyway, we’re here to see some friends of mine, and your gawking is going to cause issues.” He followed her as she weaved through the stalls, occasionally waving to a merchant. Several glared at her, and others seemed to snicker at them as they made their way to a modern looking shopfront. A sign on the front read in curling letters that seemed to burn, “THE FAMILY CRIMSON’S FINE LEATHER GOODS”. Emma opened the door and bells tinkled merrily. “Emma!” A tall brunette bounded up to hug her, kissing her cheek with bright red lips. Killian noticed her large gray ears as she flicked eyes at him that were decidedly not human. “Who is this?” she pulled away from Emma, sniffing the air gently. Killian took an instinctual step back, watching as the woman’s large gray tail swept back and forth. A wolf, she was part wolf - “He’s part siren, and he never knew. I’m showing him the ropes, as it were -”

“He doesn’t smell Siren, you all smell like fish,” Emma shot the brunette a glare, and she shrugged, “Well you do, at least you water types do. Better than some of the earth ones that try to smell floral but end up smelling like -” “Ruby.” Emma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Where is your brother? I need to order something.”

“Oh. He’s in the back.” Ruby nodded towards the rear of the shop where a pounding sound could be heard. “Thanks. I’ll be right back, no biting while I’m gone.” Killian shot her a pleading look, and he would swear that she smiled mischievously back at him. Ruby was by his side in an instant, so close he could feel her body heat radiating from her skin. She huffed against his neck, sniffing gently. “I guess you are Siren - I mean it’s faint, but it’s there. And Emma definitely doesn’t have you under a thrall, she’s not the type to do that.” “So, er, what are -” he stuttered, sensing the delight Ruby had at flustering him. “Werewolf. So is my Granny, Crimson. My mother who passed was Rose, and my brother back there that does all the metal work is Scarlet. I suppose he’s my half brother, but blood these days is so mixed, it doesn’t really matter.” Looking him up and down, her eyes predatory, she gave him a wolfish grin. “So, how did you meet Emma?”

“Work,” he said simply. One of her eyebrows raised. “You’re not a curse breaker are you? Because if you are, the one that -”

“OI!” A male voice thundered, Emma laughing behind a man storming up to the front room. Tan ears pressed back against his skull, a bristled tan tail swishing violently. “RUBE. What have I bloody told you about messing with my metal bits?”

“When you are too drunk to get a commission out on time, someone has too! Do your work so I don’t have to touch your stupid metal bits!” Ruby snarled. Killian backed away, returning to Emma’s side. The fight between the siblings raged, their yells escalating as Emma laughed quietly on the sidelines. “Is it always like this?” Killian whispered. Emma nodded smiling. “Just wait.” she whispered back. A noise like an anvil being hit with another anvil came from upstairs. Boots stomped down the stairs, a gray haired woman looking down at the two fighting from over the landing bannister. “SHUT UP, PUPS.” Ruby and Scarlet went immediately quiet, wide eyes fixated on the older woman. Her voice was low, a grumble that made both of their spines straighter, ears flattened. Killian felt a strange sense of dominance over Emma for the briefest of moments as the older woman continued. “Do your work, and stay quiet for the rest of the day. Both of you will use 20 coin to buy dinner tonight as an apology to me.” Both Ruby and Scarlet moved as if hypnotized, returning to work. “Sorry about that, I try not to use Alpha status, but Emma, you know you’re practically family.” The older woman above smiled, her booming voice no longer present. Dark black ears were perked up high, tinges of gray in the points, a dark black tail moving steadily. “Ah, who’s this?”

“Killian, this is Granny Crimson. The Alpha and Matriarch of this pack. Crimson, this is my friend Killian.” Emma smiled at Killian, who swallowed with a dry mouth. “Hello Madame,” He said weakly. “First time?” she asked grinning, teeth just a bit too sharp. “Yep,” Emma replied. “Go get him something to eat before he faints,” Granny laughed. “Tell Redmond I’ll be right over, and have him start you both a plate. And for heaven's sake, call me just Granny.”

 

The diner next to the leather goods store was quaint, featuring a counter with stools and a handful of booths filled with various species, all eating different foods. Emma explained briefly that the Red family owned both, juggling both in shifts with Granny at the head. It was apt the diner was named for her.

Killian drank the water provided greedily, trying to ground himself as Emma ordered for them. When a cup of tea appeared in front of him, he gave her a look of gratitude. “This is…” Killian tried to come up with something to say, unable to find words. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started with everything at once. I should have taught you piece by piece.” Emma cast her eyes downward, stirring a spoon in what he assumed was hot chocolate, cinnamon sprinkled on top. “It’s alright. I’ll learn, and this is good even if it isn’t a lot.” He shrugged. “What did you get us to eat?” he asked, taking a sip of the tea. The blend immediately relaxed him, unwinding tense muscles in his back, shoulders and neck. “It’s called…” she giggled, covering her face. “Look, Granny is really cheesy when it comes to names, alright, so just don’t laugh OK?”

“You’re laughing!” He grinned, and it made her laugh harder. “I’m allowed to, you’re not.” She pointed her hot chocolate spoon at him for emphasis. “No promises.”

“It’s a magic thing, they bring you whatever you’re hungry for or want without asking.” She was blushing red now, resuming stirring her hot chocolate. “And the name, Swan?” Killian raised an eyebrow and she broke into another fit of giggles. “‘My one true grub’.” She laughed, and he snorted, groaning. “I know, it’s awful but -”

“Gods above, that is _awful_. I can’t -” Their laughter continued as plates were brought out. A grilled cheese and onion rings with chocolate shake was place in front of Emma, to her obvious delight. Killian looked at his plate, seeing toasted bread and meat, fries, and a strawberry shake. Biting into the sandwich he let out a groan closing his eyes. Tomato, basil, mozzarella cheese, bacon, black olive and thin cut beef that may have been topped with prosciutto. It was beyond delicious, everything cooked perfectly and the flavor combination sublime. He looked up from his sandwich to see Emma watching him with bemusement, almost shyly. “I’m going to guess you like it?”

“Yes. This may have made it worth it.” Her laugh rung out again, making him feel lighter. They finished quickly, he was ravenous, and Redmond on orders from Granny refused to take any sort of payment. They took their milkshakes in a cup to leave, walking through the stalls together, Emma subtly pointing out different species. “Leprechaun, Pixie, Nagi - which, wow, is rare. You don’t see a lot of them around nowadays, especially in cold climates. Um… Brownie, Mugwump, Demi-demon, Witches, more Witches…” “There’s actually Leprechauns here in Boston?” Killian snorted, Emma turning to look at him with her head cocked.

“Well yes, you think only people immigrate? We do too. Or most of us do. The shipping trade makes it difficult, some creatures are considered sentient enough for being rights… It’s a whole fervent debate.” Emma looked sad for a moment, before her smile returned, and she showed him a booth filled with small ships in bottles that sailed round in the small confinement.

They looked over other booths together, enjoying the market and its strange goods.

“Hey… Killian?” Emma said quietly, her hand gently grabbing his arm to stop him as they walked to pick up their coats. “Hm?” “Thank you for today. I don’t… I don’t usually do this besides coming in to pick up specialty costumes or things for …” She trailed off, chewing her lip, staring off distantly.

“For… Mr. Gold?” Killian guessed, and her eyes shot back to him, surprise painting her face. She opened her mouth to say something, closing it again and pulling away to gently touch a tinkling wind chime that had unicorns made of seaglass, enchanted to look like they were running. “I’m sorry did I -”

“Here’s Miss Swan.” A merchant grinned. “Always looking never buying, but it is good just seeing you, It’s so rare for a water dweller to visit and you’ve become a regular! Siren’s are supposed to bring good luck, and I can’t say she hasn’t brought me some. She’s a special one, this gal, keep her close.” The merchant winked at Killian.

Emma blushed, the flushed color creeping all the way down her neck.

She moved forward, and Killian purchased a few pieces of sea glass that changed shapes when handled. A ship, a swan, and a treble clef appearing in is hands. Returning to her side, they retrieved their coats and returned to the street where the sleet had covered everything in a gray sludge, dark puddles filling the streets. “I meant it, thank you for today.” Emma mumbled, smiling almost shyly. She took his hands in hers, gently tracing the skin of his right hand. “I’ll see you around?”

“Sure, though I’ll most likely be at work -”

“I’ll bring you lunch some time. You need it, someone should be taking care of you.” Killian grimaced, shaking his head “No need to, but thank you for all of this. Have a lovely night, Miss Swan.” She gazed up at him expectantly, his heart giving a little flop in his chest. Ignoring the warmth he could feel just from her presence. Stepping back, he nodded in her direction, pulling up the collar of his coat and heading away. Looking back to give a wave, he tried to forget the sadness he saw in her face at his rebuff, but it was better for someone as lovely as her to stay far away from him.

 

Regardless of how much he wished it was different.

 

Killian found himself at an impasse, his case running on the dim embers of leads he chased like phantoms, desperately trying to keep it from growing cold. His contacts were spooked, and now he could see many of the criminals he had once dismissed with a vague awareness of being different were - Emma’s knowledge of species making it easy to place the identity of the creatures he once believed were people. It frustrates him even more that this doesn’t help him in anyway, the realization that Killian knows what they are scaring them further.

The case is everything, his focus on it unwavering. The first week becomes a blur of unrelenting and renewed passion for the job, combing every detail for clues. Killian felt like the last years had been a half life, and he was now seeing things clearly, the entire precinct taking notice of his determination, and then distraction.

Emma arrived as a vision in dark navy, trimmed in white, red lips like cherries ready to be tasted. There was no wavering in her stance, heels clicking across to his desk, a thermos in her left hand and a wrapped paper box from Granny’s in the other. He tried to stand to greet her, but she made a motion for him to sit, cutting him off before he could speak. “Good afternoon, I was in the neighborhood and… Well. You looked underfed the last time I saw you, Detective. The best thing to warm your soul? A hot cup of tea, and a croque monsieur with... “ she pressed a slender finger to her lower lip, and his mouth went dry, his dreams and visions suddenly vivid in his memory.. “I believe you Brits call them, ‘Chips’?”

“We do.” A smile threatened, his lips upturning. “I just, I’m so busy with this, but I’m so grateful for your effort -” Her face fell, and she nodded. “I understand. Maybe another time?” He nodded, and her face brightened once more. “At least try some. I guess Redmond used a new recipe. He was excited for you to try it.” “I couldn’t I -” His stomach rumbled in betrayal. “Alright, I guess I could.” Her delight brought a full smile to his face, as she watched with anticipation, his hand unwrapping the sandwich from parchment paper. Taking a bite, he tried to hide the shudder of delight that it caused, the hot food melting in his mouth and warming his insides. He could hear her laughter, realizing too late he’d closed his eyes to savor the taste, opening them as he swallowed. “I’m glad you like it.” She sat on the corner of his desk, undoing the top of the thermos, drinking steaming tea from the cap. “I added milk and sugar to this, the way I like, if it’s too much let me know and I’ll adjust. I look forward to doing this again, Detective.” Finishing the rest, she left the cap in front of him, waving a quick goodbye as she headed back out into Boston. He poured a cup of tea into the cap himself, sighing as it took him back home to his mother and the whistle of their old kettle. When he pulled away, he had drunk from the same place her lips had rested, ruby lipstick against his mouth that reddened his own as he scrubbed them.

_Her mouth on his hot, and a needy keen he swallowed desperately. Crescent moons of her nails dug into his shoulders as she begged for him to move faster, to fill her, a gasp on the last syllable of his name with a shudder that takes his own breath. There’s heat at the base of his spine that pulses and makes him feel like he’s shedding his skin, wanting to burst out of unseen seams that Emma pulls at, he can’t stop groaning her name, Emma, Emma, Emma -_

The sleep he got is punctuated by her, the older laundry woman far past tolerant and on to shaming him openly, broken Russian words that he could guess the meaning of.

“Вы извращенец, ваши ладони будут расти как волосатые, как козы.” Emma came back the next day, with a slice of shepherd’s pie, and the day after that with yorkshire pudding. The dishes were as beautiful as her, and he relented to sharing a meal with her, regardless of her being a creature. Killian found her surprisingly easy to talk to and terribly clever, challenging him when she believed he was wrong which in her opinion, was often. She was not current on any events of late, and found his stories fascinating. Killian found her fascinating. He found the new world she opened to him fascinating.

Until Regina Mills-Locksley, the mayor and heiress to Boston’s own Royale Mills Silk Company, asked to meet him and Nemo at her office.

Killian had always thought she was an attractive woman, one of his few friends, a defense lawyer he had worked with begrudgingly in the past who had grown on him, now married to her. Robin Locksley. She had always been chilly, distant, watching too close for Killian’s liking. The off putting sense that there was something lurking when she was around had stopped him from attending many parties they had, but not from occasionally grabbing a drink with Robin.

Entering her office, he could understand why he had been so hesitant around her. He saw her for the first time. She stood proudly, cheekbones high and raven hair sleekly waved, a black skirt suit with white piping and pinstripes blending into the darkness that swirled in tendrils around her like tentacles or spiders legs. It flowed around her like a smoky ermine wrap, her body steeped in it, covering her hands like fine satin gloves. Worst of all, when her dark wine lips curled into a smirk that made him feel as if he had been dipped in ice, Killian knew that she could tell he could now see her - _truly_ see her.

“Any luck, gentleman? I’ve heard my name has come up multiple times in regards to this... “ She let her smile fall, but her eyes gleamed, staring at Killian. “Tragedy.”

“Detective Jones is working on the case, and has been extremely diligent -” Nemo began, but Regina waved a hand, her stare unwavering at Killian. Nemo slumped in his seat, and went slack, Killian unable to his his shock.

“What the bloody fucking -”

“Relax. He’s just sleeping.” Regina said with a shrug, walking over to a wood paneled cabinet. Nemo’s body let out a snore, his chest rising and falling as Killian let out a small sigh of relief. She opened the cabinet and produced two tumblers, one of which delicately floated into Killian’s hand. Two Ice cubes and a stream of whiskey followed soon after, filling his glass neatly from across the room. “Now. I believe you and I have business to attend to?”

“Madame Mayor, I am not aware of -” Another wave of her hand, a quick pulling motion as if cutting off a song, and he found his mouth unable to speak.

“I don’t see a need for you to speak, detective, however I do see a need for you to listen.” She cocked her head smiling. “I don’t want to be involved in your investigation. We fall out of human jurisdiction, all of us, and we deal with it on our own in our own ways. Flesh for flesh. Blood for blood. All of us were here before humans, and we’ll be here after - and far after halflings like you die. It’s the way things are, and will always be.”

Killian tried to speak, protesting, but was still unable to muster any noise besides a muffled grunt.

“I do love Locksley, which is why the next part is important. Drop the case. Locksley is protected. The idiot is more Fae than human but doesn’t know, and he’s cloaked under one of my very powerful protection spells. Whatever is here, it’s older than me. It’s ancient, and evil… I could feel it slither into my town like some sort of disease.” Regina shuddered, and Killian could see a flash of disgust and fear grace her face. She made a dismissive wave with her hand again, and Killian finally found his voice. “What are you then?” He rasped. “A witch?”

Regina barked a laugh, rolling her eyes. “First, I understand you’re new, but it is impolite to ask someone’s species or guild. Secondly…” Another wave of her hand and an old book appeared in his lap with a puff of purple smoke. It was bound in dark green and brittle leather, obviously ancient. He opened it’s yellowing pages, finding a dog eared page. In winding letters he read, “The Black Queen and her Seelie Court”. ‘Legends and true historical tales are one of the most important reasons for choosing a tourist destination. It is always nice to know stories related to an area, legends passed down through generations, and the mysticism surrounding them. Such legends are deeply ingrained in the area of the Plitvice Lakes Municipality, and the most famous legend is of the Black Queen, a mystical woman responsible for the creation of the region.

The story goes that in times long forgotten, the Plitvice region suffered from a terrible drought which caused the source of the Black River to dry out. The immense heat caused animals to die, crops withered, trees lost leaves, and the earth crumbled to dust. The people were desperate for raid, but the heavens were not merciful.

Then one day, the Black Queen and her incredible Seelie court appeared in the Plitvice Lakes valley. She was a benevolent fairy who lived in her castle on Velebit and came to help the tormented people of Plitvice. They were afraid of her, for they had heard she was a sorceress with terrible power. One brave man visited her, but along the way found a raven colored mare being attacked by three dogs. He saved the mare, and she turned into a beautiful woman. She granted the brave man’s wish of ending the drought.

She summoned clouds and thunder and ordered rain to soak the area. Rain fell for days, and water rose from the bed of the Black River until sixteen lakes connected by waterfalls appeared. The first lake was named “Prošćansko”, or Beggar’s Lake in Croatian, after the people’s desperate pleas for water.

The people built a castle for the Black Queen on the hill above Kozjak, as a symbol of gratitude for saving them from draught and gifting them with an abundance of water. The Black Queen watched over the Plitvice Lakes from her new castle and continued to help the people whenever they faced difficulties. Until one day, she threw herself from the highest tower in her castle, turning into a purple sunset. Many say it’s because her human lover died fighting the Turks, while others say the Devil himself came to fetch her.’

Killian blinked, and looked up at her. She was sitting back behind her desk, looking sadly at her empty tumbler. Summoning his in a poof of smoke, she downed the untouched drink. “Did the devil come to collect then?” He asked quietly, returning the book to her.

Regina frowned. “No, that would have been better. My Daniil died in war, against the Turks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. Robin and I - “ She quickly turned and narrowed her eyes. “Stop with your Siren shit. I hate that I’m even susceptible, you really can barely tell you are more than human. It’s sneaky, but so are Sirens.”

“Listen, I have to investigate this regardless of what your reservations are, Madame Mayor -”

“You’ll regret it. It doesn’t involve you, and whatever it is, I’ll handle it in the old ways.” She waved a hand and Nemo sputtered, eyes fluttering, “Jones, here, he’s a great detective and has been dedicated to this case -” Nemo said groggily. “Yes, we already talked about thank you. I am extremely satisfied with your choice and gave him my statement. You can go.” Regina nodded towards the door, and Nemo stood nodding with confusion. “Er, yes, well. Thank you Madame.” Nemo nodded. Killian gave a nod as well, and Regina smiled icily. “Oh, and Detective?” She called after them, and Killian turned. “I’d appreciate your discretion with my husband.” Killian nodded. “Of course, Madame.”

 

The case was beyond him, dead ends at every turn and Smoke without a fire in sight. Killian hadn’t heeded Mayor Mills warning and had dove back in, just as another victim had appeared. Emma brought him lunch as he was heading out his dark black coat in contrast to her, a floral print wool jacket, skirt, and gloves bright against the gray weather. She shook a box at him with a smile, waving at a few other officers in the precinct as she strode towards him.

“Detective, you’re leaving without lunch?” She smiled, and Killian felt his lips upturn as well. Pulling her aside, he took her by the arm and led her into an empty interrogation room, locking the door. The room was small, but a table sat near the wall with two chairs.

“I need to leave for a case, there’s another body, and it looks strange. I don’t think I’ll have time for lunch today, love.”

“Oh.” Emma sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs. “Alright then. You’re working so hard, I thought…”

“We can do lunch tomorrow, I really need to go.” Killian helped her stand, hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t go. Please.” Emma whispered, trailing a gloved hand along his jaw. “Please.”

“Emma, we can have lunch tomorrow, I don’t understand why you’re being so -” He didn’t finish, her lips crushed against his and she pulled him by the lapels of his coat tight against her body. Her mouth was soft, fingers threaded at the nape of his neck as she turned her head slightly to deepen their kiss.

She pulled away abruptly, looking ashamed and playing with her swan pendant as she chewed her lip. “I’m sorry. I should go. I’ll leave the box of food on your desk.” Emma unlocked the door, gliding away, leaving a stunned Killian touching his lips.

Rushing to go after her, he saw Mr. Gold pulling her by her wrist out of the precinct as she gave Killian one small, sad, glance before disappearing.

The corpse of Gaston LaFrance was like the others in many ways, including its shriveled, husk like, aged appearance. Killian had taken the pictures and descriptions needed, but found that he could now see the markings and taste the magic of some creature. He shivered at the thought of a creature being able to make such an attack.

Going over his notes again and again, he couldn’t piece together the motive for this attack. It could be a copycat killing, but the execution of the murders were kept hushed, the nature of them far too unsavory even for top crime families and cut throat corporate heads. Gaston was from just out of town, a normal working man with very little education. He lived alone, drank heavily, and seemed to consist on eggs, beer, and unidentified cuts of meat. Even his receipts proved useless, almost entirely illegible, except for several floral purchases that were scrawled as “Will be Wife”. The floral arrangements sat on a barrel used as a makeshift table, all stamped with a large red “Return to Sender”. They were wilted, long past dead.

Killian sent an officer to the bookstore they were sent to, only to have him return with a clear empty lead - The bookstore worker had huffed at the name, rolling her eyes. Apparently, Gaston tried to court the woman quite unsuccessfully, but only received a firm rebuff. Killian noted that he should visit later for a follow up. The case hit more dead ends not even a week later, and Killian felt like he was going mad, Emma hadn’t been around since their kiss, and he felt the strangest flicker of rage at Gold dragging her away before they could have worked out what the bloody hell that was about.

Killian’s dreams had also progressively gotten more intense, her mouth on his as he rutted against his bed or a pillow, waking mid thrust with a groan to finish in his hand or finding himself sweat drenched and sticky in the mornings. It was bad enough that he had begun to launder some things himself to spare the embarrassment, and had bought a few more sets of sheets from a catalog.

He needed to see her, to figure out what the kiss that seared so profoundly on his memory meant, to find what she wanted to say. Finally, he drove out to see her, the two weeks feeling like an eternity.

Pale pink silk draped down her frame in a single column, clinging to her lithe curve and bringing out the blush in her cheeks. He could see the ties that wrapped around her neck to fall against her breasts in a draped V-shape, another tie on the sides of her waist keeping the fabric close to her pert arse.

The dress rippled around her, exposing long legs and pearl dotted heels. Tonight her voice seemed lower and huskier than usual, the song going straight to his crotch and fanning the flame of his denied urges.

_“You know I'm yours for just the taking_

_I'd gladly surrender_

_Myself to you body and soul_

_What lies before me_

_A future that's stormy_

_A winter that's gray and cold_

_Unless there's magic the end will be tragic_

_And echo a tale that's been told so often”_

Killian began to kick himself for coming. He had missed her after days of having her by his side, going over her lips on his again and again. This was addiction, even as he was content to watch her.

Emma's set ended, and she didn't bother doing her rounds of mingling, zeroing in on him with a look of delight.

“Killian, welcome back, I…” her voice rustled in his mind, and he heard the words she tried to swallow clearly.

_I missed you._

“I mean, what do you do on your days off? Do you eat? You know how I feel about you taking care of your - “ she continued, Killian cutting her off.

“Hey.” Emma stopped her rambling, staring at him. “I missed you too. It's fine. Friends miss each other.” The words left his mouth, and he immediately regretted them. Her face fell, and she looked defeated.

She nodded, looking down. “Yeah. Friends.” An idea seemed to hit her and she looked back up with a smile. “I need to get out of this, would you like to see where I live?” Emma tugged at the fabric falling off her shoulders underneath white feathers, revealing bare shoulder.

He made to protest but Emma interrupted.

“Please?”

Killian sighed, obliging.

They climbed up a spiral metal staircase that lead to a narrow wooden set of steps high above the wings. Reaching the top Emma opened the door to what looked like may have been a prop storage room at one time. A clawfoot shower and tub was shoved into a corner, an armoire pressing against the porcelain. Next to the armoire, a full size metal bed frame held a mattress piled in an assortment of blankets, a room divider painted in swirls of gold, the last small bit of the room another dresser of drawers and a vanity. A set of step up to a window took up the last bit of space available. The room was decorated in a strange hodge podge of items, lights, tinsel, netting, postcards, shells, beads and pictures hanging from the ceiling, everything screaming her name to him. Emma waved a hand, the soft gown she wore swaying around her and doing nothing to hide how bare she was underneath. She threw the feather cape into the armoire without ceremony. “So this is it, this is where I live.” The the tied bows at her neck and hip spun with her as she showed him her collected items.

“It’s very nice. And It’s definitely you, I see you put up the unicorns.” He pointed to the unicorn mobile hanging in the corner, magic keeping them galloping through the beads and shells they were next to, Emma smiled, before pointing to the set of steps leading to a window.

“This is the best part,” her hand in his, Emma pulled him through the small hatch, up into the cool night air. Stepping carefully out of the dormer, she stood on a flat area of the warehouse rooftop, the sky above a blanket of stars. Killian pulled himself up and watched her move a grate with her skirt, a blanket tucked underneath, warmed by the machinery that she laid out for them to sit on. “This is pretty nice. You can see the ocean so clearly.” The breeze was salty, and he looked to Emma to see her face was sad and contemplative. “Are you alright?”

Blinking and looking back at him, she tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear and let out a loud exhale. “Yeah.... No….. I don’t know anymore.” Flopping back, she covered her face with her arm, sighing. “I just… I wish I could…” her voice trailed off into silence, her fingers tugging at the necklace that sat perfectly against her bosom. Killian looked away quickly, heat rising quickly within him, the visions of her panting in ecstasy swimming up from his mind. “If I can help, in anyway -” “Singing is the closest I get to freedom.” Emma whispered, reaching her hand up in front of her, as if to grab the stars themselves. “Sirens, we’re elementals. We live in the seven elements, with practice able to become one or many. It hurts us to stay like this, to be without the magic we are made from.” “Why don’t you leave, Emma?” It pained him to ask, watching her wrestle out words. “I can’t.” She finally said, looking up at him glassy eyed, an unspoken valley of secrets between them. “Alright.” Killian straightened, watching her defeated gaze up at the sky. “What’s it like, changing?” He asked, and Emma’s face brightened. “It’s like… It’s like your whole body feels right, it goes electric and you are everything but nothing. You get lost in the sensation of pureness, like you were born to be made of air or water, like you have known nothing else. It feels amazing, being together with everything but apart as yourself, seeing everyone and being with everyone…”

“Everyone?” “There are many more of us. Or there were. I haven’t… I haven’t been home in a very long time. It’s beautiful, made of diamonds we pressed from coal, glass we melted from sand, a palace of dreams that gives off amazing light. Not as showy as Atlantis, but -” “Do you think… Do you think I could see it or go…” Killian turned to her, watching her face carefully. “I don’t know. It’s always a risk with halflings that it doesn’t take.” Emma reached a hand out and stroked his cheek. His body reacted with more sudden heat, a jolt from his cheek straight down his spine. A hungriness settled into him, and he shook it off as he pulled away from her. Standing, he brushed off his pants, making his way back to her window. Her voice rang out clearly behind him, and his blood grew hotter still, his body shaking as the words fell over him.

_“Come away with me in the night_

_Come away with me_

_And I will write you a song_

_And I want to wake up with the rain_

_Falling on a tin roof_

_While I'm safe there in your arms_

_So all I ask is for you_

_To come away with me in the night_

_Come away with me.”_

“Stop.” He gritted out, and Emma gave pause, looking at him curiously when he turned slightly, bringing her back into his vision. His mind gave commands that were stark in contrast, the whisper of calm overshadowed by the roar to give into something carnal. A steady drumbeat from his pulse that grew faster at the flash of her collarbone was met with thoughts that came from him, but not, to lick in the soft dip between her neck. Emma’s voice drew him out of the revelry. “It’s supposed to relax you, is it not -”

“It’s definitely not relaxing. I should go, it’s late.” Killian growled, ignoring her perplexed face and the hurt he saw there. He made his way carefully back down the narrow stairs, listening to her footfalls behind him, and the choices of expletives she huffed out when the hatch window would not shut.

“Come on you piece of -” Peeking up the staircase, he saw Emma pulling with no give from the window, both hands wrapped around the handle lever. Approaching behind her, he felt her startle slightly as he began to pull too, ignoring any feelings that tried to overtake him from the nearness of her presence.

Giving several heaves, the window finally snapped shut sending Killian backward to the floor of her small room with a low grunt, his head connecting hard to the floor, stunning him, and the air in his lungs escaping, his arms locked tight around Emma who had let out a cry of fear when he had. It took a moment to collect himself, his breath returning. The brief composure was lost when Emma’s warmth moved to slide against his chest, warm hands against his cheeks where fingers traced his jaw and brow, eventually gently touching the knot on his head leaving him wincing. “Sorry, you’re definitely going to have a nasty knot there.” Emma murmured, and he cracked open an eye to see her body in his arms, hand low on her waist as she focused on moving his hair aside. This close, her pulse’s rhythm sung to him, something very wrong with him as he tasted her worried noises that had his own breathing growing tight again. “Emma, I-” Killian hissed out, swallowing hard. “Shhhh. I’m so sorry, I should have just asked you for help. Thank you for catching me.” Emma leaned to press a kiss to his cheek, instead meeting his lips as he felt whatever stretched under his skin stir to life completely. Her moans into his mouth were like wine, everything else but the sound of her far off, instinct and underlying urges thrumming to life as he rolled them over, the whine she gave when her leg hooked around his hip bringing him closer. He needed to taste, and take, hear her, feel every delicious inch of - “Killian, stop!” Emma panted, and he looked down at her bruised lips, his hand resting under her dress while his prosthetic held her other hip down. Killian pulled away from her quickly, breathing heavy. “Emma, I’m so sorry love, I don’t know what came over me.” Shame rose, but not enough to quell the thing inside him that still made demands. His nails bit into the wood floor.

Emma let out a shaky sigh, smiling slightly. “I keep forgetting, it’s been so long since one of our kind was here. Even then, you’re…” She let out a shaky laugh. “You’re male. And no one taught what to do when you’re interested in one of us. Well. When you _want_ one of us.” “I don’t feel in control of my thoughts when I’m with you.” Killian whispered, flinching when she stood. “I’m afraid of what I feel, what I want.” “Don’t be. It’s still you. It’s just… It runs on instinct. It’s Primal, like the magic we use. Male sirens, or the many cousin families, Selkies and Fae, they have a bad reputation for a reason. They take without regard of the person being willing, sometimes on purpose, other times from lack of experience. They get banished nowadays, or find themselves locked away on land with no memories. The fact you can stop yourself is amazing.” “Always a gentleman, regardless of supernatural levels of control. I feel like I need a leash.” Killian grumbled, and Emma met him with a sad smile, moving around her room, looking for something.

“I’ll fix it for you, but I promise if you give into it, with the right person, it’s worth it. We don’t mate for life anymore either, which is nice. Either partner can end their relationship. It’s all very modern now.” After opening many of her drawers and little cabinets, Kilian watching intently as his body refused to relax, Emma let out a noise of triumph. “Here it is.” She pressed a plain silver ring into his palm, and the moment it touched his skin, he felt his body fall back into the cool air, whatever instincts that had clawed up to the front of his mind falling away. “Emma, thank you. I couldn’t even think, that’s never happened before with any woman I’ve been with -” “They were all humans. You can’t… You wouldn’t get the call like you would with me.” Emma shrugged. “Do you get it? This thing, the call?” Killian took her hand in his, and she sat next to him. “Yes. It compels us to give in, to link ourselves to you. It only works if there’s a real connection, so usually people don’t get a full link. It’s kind of like… If you hear a person ahead of time or trust them immediately, it’s supposed to be some myth, like a true loved kiss sort of thing.” Emma mumbled. “A myth?”

“It’s not important.” she whispered. “You should go. I am sorry I didn’t realize before you were having this… reaction,” Emma blushed, “I would have helped. I never intended to make you uncomfortable, it means a lot that you’re here.” Standing again, She went to open the door for him. “Emma?” She turned her head, and at his gentle toss, fumbled and caught the silver ring in her hands with surprise. “I want you, and wanted you just as much with the ring. Please -” Emma strode to him, pressing a kiss to his lips that rivaled their last in the small interrogation room, the ring in her hand clattering to the floor as they pressed against each other. A quick pull of the knot at her side, than the other at her neck, and her gown was falling to the floor in a puddle of silk, his hands roaming as they broke away. Her moans urged him on, lips trailing kisses down her neck and shoulders, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a wet smack while he ground against her thigh. Her hands found his waistband, yanking roughly until a button broke off, letting them slide down as he kicked them away, sucking in air with a hiss as she pulled his shirt off, skin against skin at last. He kissed her roughly again, not remembering a time when there was this build up or sudden tension that set him on edge. He wanted to go slow, to taste and listen to every noise she made when his tongue slid across her skin, but for now that had to wait. Whatever pushed him into madness also demanded without preamble. “Bed.” Emma whispered, and he obliged, letting her push him down onto the mattress. She climbed over him, and the first long slide against wetness felt like heaven, his eyes closed at the second and third teasing rock of her hips.

“Emma.” He managed a rasp, but she sunk down on him slowly, and everything else was eclipsed by her sharp intake of breath and his loss of all speech functions, eyes shooting open as he felt her overtake him. Her first testing grind against him was enough to draw out groans, her own soft mewling cries when she rocked in slow circles not enough by far. As if she could hear his thoughts Emma rode him faster, breathing out in soft whispers.

Killian bucked his hips up, back arching as she rode him, his blood singing in his ears as ecstasy flowed through his body. He gripped her milky white thighs, meeting the rhythm Emma set frantically, moaning his name so beautifully. He felt scorching sensations lick everywhere at once that had them him gasping, while she whispered soft supplications. Her hair flowed around her like the goddess she was, golden shimmering silk, eyes glowing jade as she shook, falling to his chest while she clawed at his shoulders.

Emma’s sheath gripped him in waves of friction, and he needed to take her, every frenzied underlying instinct flaring to life as he rolled them to press her down instead. They kissed languidly and he felt the hum of her body match the hum of his, felt the electric current run up his spine demanding he _take, she was his, take_.

He slammed into her, listening to her cry of surprise and pleasure as he set a brutal pace chasing what his body now demanded of him. Changing the angle of his hips to press deeper, his fingers curled into her skin, bruising against her hip bones. A growl escaped him unbidden and his head spun, desperate for something he didn’t understand. With every stroke his body was on fire, his skin itself felt like it was changing as Emma intertwined her cool fingers with his.

“Yes! Oh, please, yes, Killian I submit!” she cried, writhing under him as he pushed a long leg over his shoulder. He needed something more, his body was taut and straining. There was nothing before this and would be nothing after if he was denied- he needed, needed -

Emma arched up into him, tightening again as he slid home, her pants into his neck not enough to sate whatever this wildness was. He was on the edge of it as she moaned into him, whispered words in a forgotten language that meant everything:

“I am yours, Killian.”

The energy around them crested as they fell together into crescendo, crying out together. Her moans were melodic as he let out a fierce animalistic noise of bliss, spilling himself in a few stuttered thrusts.

He let his body go limp above her, supporting himself on his forearm. Emma looked up at him, brushing her fingers along his lips, cupping his cheek with her hand. Her other hand rose to tousle his hair, which was swaying gently in a non existent breeze.

“I told you, you can see me for what I am, because of what you are. It’s why you can sense me.” She smiled, the beautiful shimmer of her body glowing underneath him and her scent tantalizing. “And now... “ she rolled her hips up as he stiffened inside her again, hissing, blue eyes blazing. “You’ve marked me as yours. I belong to you, until you choose to leave me. Most importantly: if you call to me, I will hear it, and if I call to you, you will hear me.”

She hummed a melody and the note resonated like she’d scraped her nails down his shaft even as he rocked slowly inside of her. “Fuck. Emma,” he groaned, bending slightly to bring a nipple into his mouth. A foreign feeling fluttered through his mind, as if he’d forgotten something only to remember it again or like a rustle of a reminder. It was almost as if someone was taking their fingers and running it through his thoughts, like flipping the page of a book. _“Mmmm. You want to do all that to me, if I keep this up?”_ Her voice floated in his mind, her lips unmoving in speech, instead busy teasing his earlobe. “How do I?” He hissed, not finishing, already ready when she gave an experimental thrust up against him. “You think it, but in me. It means I can do neat little tricks…” Another slow roll of her hips, the sudden pleasure from it much more intense. She whispered back in his head, while he panted sharp breaths. _“Like that. I can make you feel what I feel. Or just humming the right note to make you fall apart. It’s an unfair advantage, really.”_

_**“Turnabout is fair play, love.”**_ An experimental hum on his own end while he pressed a soft bite to her pulse point that made Emma whimper, eyes wide with shock. He smirked, sucking her collarbone sinfully with another tone, her body suddenly tensing underneath him. _ **“I’m a quick study, and you’re an open book.”**_

“Prove it.” Emma challenged, the night far from over.

 

Being with Emma was like discovering air all over again, deep breaths in and out that fed flame and a softness in him that felt right. She was an easy addiction to fall into, sweeping everything else away with ease, eclipsing things while at the same time making them stronger.

She brought him lunch, and they occasionally went out as well when she had free time. Emma had rehearsals with Gold quite a bit, afterwards looking tired or having bruises that she covered with what she called a ‘Glamor’. Killian could feel her close herself off to him when he asked certain questions, but she was older, sometimes looking at things with such sadness it leaked into his own mind, leaving a stain. Bruises were a part of dancing or any type of stage work, she repeated;y assured him. She didn’t speak about Gold much as her employer. Killian noticed that Gold seemed to leave her alone a lot after rehearsals, weeks at a time where he was gone on business or around town but away. Killian became well acquainted with Emma’s room, and she even ended up in his shabby apartment more than a few times. Emma brought light into every corner of his life, boldly greeting his neighbor in what he discovered was Russian.

“She called you a pervert, and told me to be careful.” Emma giggled, before letting out a slight moan. Killian licked up her thigh, prosthetic pushing up her skirt. Nipping at her panties, she heard him chuckle huskily before nuzzling into her core through the soft fabric.

“Well. I prefer, dashing rapscallion.” He pulled the fabric aside, and gave a long lick, eliciting a moan.

Faemarket became a weekly date for them, Ruby sitting at their booth sipping a shake while Redman whipped something up to give to Will who would slide in next to them. Ruby always had gossip or knowledge of good deals, and Killian felt a brotherly connection with Will that stemmed from their shared sense of humor.

The case got colder, and he worked smaller cases instead for other officers or as assigned by Nemo. After a particularly by the books robbery, he joined the squad at the bar, much to their surprise. To Killian’s own surprise, he enjoyed it. He felt whole, where before he felt fractured. When he told Emma about it, she was elated.

She pushed him gently into more, going dancing in smoky jazz clubs or strolling through both human and Fae markets together. Killian treated her as part puzzle, a case he desperately wanted to solve, writing her notes like she was his girl at home during the war. Every discovery he made about her was a revelation, smiles about favorite flowers or how much she loved the taste of chocolate. He learned that she loved to tease, the needy whines she with her mouth wrapped around him sucking with a hollowed cheeks, driving her just as mad as him. Especially when she spoke through the link to push him over the edge further, the amazing feeling of her grinding down on her own hand coupled with his cock down her throat bringing blinding heat to the base of his spine.

_“I want to taste you, I want to swallow every drop, please Killian, please, please!”_

Her powers left him boneless and spent, brought up to the sun like Icarus, but never falling, only rising again and again until he burst into white hot pleasure.

Killian also found himself enjoying his magic and the link in their minds, testing how far they could be apart (very far) and what exactly he could do (not telekinesis, to his dismay). He could do a small Glamor of a tattoo, create a sliver of incandescent light, and if he focused hard enough he found he could put people in a short thrall with his words. Emma helped him practice. Killian found his favorite sessions involved tumbling in bed with her.

The last fall days were giving way to cold, frigid temperatures not affecting either of them, a set of warmth charms Killian presented to Emma from a witch he’d found in the market. Emma wore hers on her wrist, and he caught her admiring the small wooden charm, tracing it and the bracelet with her fingers. Killian found it amusing that of all her jewels and finery, she found the carved piece of wood so lovely.

They fell for the way they completed each other, and Killian fell hard. Surprising her with gifts as simple as a drawing brought her the purest joy, as if kindness was new. It broke him that she was so unused to any sort of courting. Her soft smile or bitten lip when she was surprised made his heart flutter.

“What is this surprise then?” Emma whispered as Killian lead her through the chilled air. She had just finished a set, hair held back with deep plum and emerald combs, emerald dress hugging tight to her body. “You know I hate surprises, I can’t wait -”

“You love it, don’t lie darling.” Killian smirked. They headed down a boardwalk to a crooked dock, salty air swirling around them. Killian gestured to a small boat. “I present, ours for the evening, The Jolly Roger.”

Emma blinked, looking at the side of the boat and back up at him. “It says, ‘The Fair Maid Marian’ on the side.” She pointed, and he waved his hand in great concentration. The letters melted into a crooked scrawl, forming the words ‘The Rolly Jogger’. Emma laughed, and let a blushing Killian help her on board.

“Good enough, I suppose.”Killian laughed, holding her close. “Tonight, I thought we'd have dinner and hot chocolate out at sea. A mate of mine said I could borrow it, it's an Elco Marinette. There's a bed below, and enough space here to sit with a blanket - “ he gestured to a pile of blankets and a wicker picnic basket.

Emma blinked back tears. “It's perfect.”

“You've been dreaming of the ocean a lot. That's why I thought…” Killian squeezed her hand in his.

“I miss it… Home, I mean. I miss it terribly.”

A lull fell between them, Killian moving to guide the vessel to sea. It sputtered a few times before smoothly cutting through the water. Emma stood tucked against his side, mind elsewhere and removed from his reach.

When they had left the light of the city, Killian stopped and smoothed out the blankets on the small deck, eating, talking, and laughing. They curled into each other as they named constellations, his world's and hers.

“I miss how the stars look below the waves or in the clouds. That was one of my favorite things to do, sneaking away from my parents and the palace to try and see.”

The link between them trembled, and for a brief moment, Emma let her perfected walls slip. Flashes of memories slipped into his mind, secrets unearthed that left her face stricken with panic. One memory carefully preserved and tended, hidden far away.

The gentle rock of a warm, pink, bleating babe against her bare chest, tears falling on his tiny face, sorrow so deep and maternal primal it could never be explained.

“You…” Killian looked at her with wide eyes, his heart heavy. “You have a child?”

“I…” Emma paused, taking a shaky breath. “I had a child. I fell in love with a run away sorcerer, the son of an abominable set of parents. His mother was mixed Siren and Witch, his father, a demon. He called himself Neal, and I loved him so much. He wanted to open a portal to a different realm where we could escape his father's power forever, but…”

“Emma, I'm so sorry, I - “

“I gave the child away.” she swallowed hard, and the link wavered, Killian’s heart lurching. She was lying to him. There was more. He covered his thoughts, hiding the sudden unease, trading her pain for his.

“I lost my brother and my hand in the same instance.” He supplied, stroking her hair. “The only family I had left, and I could hear him drowning on the other side of the bulkhead door, I could hear him dying and I couldn't help him.”

Killian looked at his prosthetic hand with disgust.

“Killian, I…” Emma lost any words, the link between them enough to convey their shared pain and support. He kissed her softly, carrying her down to the bed.

They held each other in the small bed, Killian’s arms warm around her as she tried desperately to keep it together. The first sob rattling her body, but the second and third into his chest were met with his quiet soothing.

Words slipped from his lips softly, the words airy and light, turning to heaviness as Emma processed the meaning.

“Shhhh, Emma. Shhhh. I love you.“

Emma looked up at him, the same sad look she got when he pushed her, begged her to leave or tell him the unspoken secrets she hid from him. He could feel the pain there, whatever bothered her with such force still held back.

“You don’t have to say anything back.” He whispered. “It’s alright.” She made a small noncommittal noise, turning away from him. He pulled her back, kissing her softly on the temple. Gently pressing through their link, he filled her thoughts with warm memories. Liam sitting in the sun with him as they lay on the shore of the river near home. Chestnuts over a small fire they made in the hearth. His father throwing him high as a child, catching him after he felt like he had flown. Daisy chains he made for his mother while she sang, tall grass blowing around her. Emma let out a sigh of contentment, falling asleep in the small bed as Killian returned to steer them back to the docks. He could hear her dreams more frequently as they had gotten closer. The nightmare that he heard now ripped through him, turning off the boat to regain sight.

“Don’t hurt my son, please I’ll do anything, the deal was only for me and by it we are both bound -” Emma’s cries, a creature with the head of a crocodile glaring down with what almost looked like a sneer. The sound of a baby crying, prayers of a better life for him and prayers to escape.

The dream moved, her mind hazy and fighting for awareness in a dark crate, and he could feel her will dying as a sense of numb covered her. Time passing, the crate opened as she was forced to sing, compelled to do something awful, terror and shame building in the melody -

Emma stirred slightly, and her dream faded into something softer, a beautiful woman wise beyond her years, stroking Emma’s hair as she lay in a large bed. Her brunette curls were pinned back, but still waved like they were in an unseen breeze. Killian realized they seemed to be underwater but unaffected by the pressure or lack of air. Killian returned to docking Robin’s boat, the nagging fear that Emma was in far more peril than she could ever say,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been down with actual influenza for a week, and I am still recovering from that mess. Please excuse the potential sloppiness of this chapter, I cannot format and edit while potentially partially brain dead. 
> 
> You can find me at Courtorderedcake on instagram, and it's rumored that if you say my name 46 times in a mirror I might appear.


	3. Chapter 3

Winter fell swiftly over Boston, blankets of snow on cars and streets that kept even the hardiest indoors. Killian and Emma fared slightly better, trudging through drifts to get into the warmth of each other’s beds or Faemarket’s perpetually sunny courtyard.

The link grew stronger between them and Emma used it to her advantage, leaving Killian trying to hide the flush he felt at Emma tormenting him as he booked intakes or checked on anyone in the drunk tank. Killian tried to push Emma with long strokes of his tongue through what must be a glistening and ready quim, but Emma twisted him in ways that left him wrung out without being actually sated. Her song lit his blood to fire, and it refused to cool until he was buried in her fully.

_“At last my love has come along_

_My lonely days are over and life is like a song, oh yeah_

_At last the skies above are blue_

_My heart was wrapped up clover the night I looked at you_

_I found a dream that I could speak to_

_A dream that I can call my own_

_I found a thrill to press my cheek to_

_A thrill I've never known, oh yeah_

_You smiled, you smiled oh and then the spell was cast_

_And here we are in Heaven_

_For you are mine at last”_

He tried to keep his wits, the feeling of silky thighs caging him as he sat at his desk undoing him slowly as he fought against the sensations she sent. His body gave in easily, cock hard in his pants and straining to buck into the phantom wetness that slid along his shaft. He let out a growled groan, listening to only her voice and trying to match sensations with her, but the minx was in her bed and he was in the bullpen, rutting against the hand on his lap.

_“You could always paint the underside of your desk,”_

Killian let out a hiss at the thought, splattered ropes on the metal from fucking his hand until he could make it to her. Her hum through the link felt like her tongue swirling around the head of his cock, his hand gripping his desk hard as Emma let out a giggle. Somehow he knew she was soaking wet from teasing him, and he felt his jaw muscles tick. _“But I suppose that isn’t good form for a man of the law…”_

He left early complaining of a cold, rushing to the club as his mind buzzed. Emma was waiting on the other side of her door as he stomped up the stairs, letting out a squeal as he grabbed her to press her against it, closing it with a rough slam. His coat and shirt were thrown aside as his mouth and hers met sloppily, trousers shucked off in haste. He threw her robe aside, pressing his mouth immediately to her core and lapping at her slick thighs.

“Fuck, Killian, wait -”

“Not a chance, not now,” He dipped low, sucking hard on her swollen clit, nuzzling roughly when she let out a scream. “You’ve already gotten yourself so wet, I need to taste you before I fuck you how I want.”

He pressed his tongue in figure eights and swirls as he held her hips firmly from bucking in pleasure, finally dipping his tongue inside her. He felt her sudden press as her breath quickened and her fingers gripped his hair, removing his mouth right before she crested to a peak.

“What? Fuck but I was so -” she whined, but he was standing, his hands were under her ass as he pulled her down to sink into her heat. Her head met his shoulder, nails biting into his skin, relief finally in sight from her ministrations. The shift of her hips that signaled her readiness was all he needed, setting a punishing pace.

“You think it’s fair,” he let out a long grunt, his thrusts already erratic and rough to the point of bruising, “to tease me all day, when you know how badly I wanted to bury myself in you? Knowing how wet you are, darling?” Another rough plunge had them both moaning, her legs wrapped tightly around him.

“Killian, I need, I’m so -”

“I could bloody well care less about what you need,” he hissed, pistoning his hips and feeling her tremble around him as she clung to his neck. “You can come again and again, and I want you to, over and over on my cock. In fact, that’s what I need, love. Come for me, now.” his thumb pushed against her clit in demanding circles, and her back arched pressing her into him.

The cry in his ear was beautiful, quiet mewls of half words as he continued his movements through her aftershocks.

“Is this what you wanted, sweet? Is this what you imagined while you tortured me today? I imagined fucking you like this, I wanted to be filling you all day. I wanted to feel you drip down my thighs just like this, and I want to hear you love, I _need_ to hear you,” His groans were coming faster, his eyes blown wide and almost black. Emma’s cries of pleasure became louder, and he threw his head back as he bucked into her tight heat.

“Killian! I -” she didn’t finish, her moan cut off by his mouth, a demanding and rough press of lips against hers swallowing the rest. She broke away with a cry, shuddering and going limp against him. His low groan was almost pained as he felt himself start to unravel, heat at his the base of his spine building. Bringing her hips down with a few hard strokes, he bit her shoulder and hummed. Her body tensed as if every muscle was rigid, he felt the tight squeezing flutters he needed as she screamed his name, clawing at his back.

His last thrusts were kindling for the fire along his spinal cord, everything was white hot flame as he chanted her name. He came in one last rough thrust, shaking as he held her. Everything was still except for them, slick bodies pressed together in bliss.

“Mmmm.” She murmured after a moment. Running her hands through his hair, she lazily grinned up at him. “You don't seem to be discouraging my methods, handsome.”

He laughed slightly, shifting to let her down. Picking her up and laying her on the bed with a kiss, he nodded. “Perhaps that's because I'm not discouraging them, beautiful.”

Her laugh warmed him, and he walked to the small curtain where her tub sat, running hot water. The tap obliged, but barely, just enough to wet a cloth for them. After a moment of clean up, they curled under her mountain of quilts in the small bed, tangled in each other.

“Stay with me tonight?” Emma asked, sleepily. “It’s just me until Tuesday, and I get a little…” she bit her lip looking down. “I get lonely.” she whispered.

“Emma, Why can’t you leave?” Her eyes darkened, and he felt their strange connection tremble, the sure sign she was closing herself off again.

“Can you promise me you’ll stop asking? I will tell you, I want to tell you. I just need to figure out how to explain.” Her voice was tired and sad, eyes searching his.

“I’ll stay. I’ll think on the promise.” he hummed gently, and she sighed at the sound of his voice in her bones, the lullabye soft as down feathers.

“Your mother sang that to you, hm?” She murmured, closing her eyes. He nodded, finishing the last few bars. “It’s old. Very old. You might have more traits from her than I thought, if you can remember that. It’s… It’s hard for others to hear. Do you want to practice?”

“You need to go to sleep.” He smiled down at her, and she blushed, opening her eyes slightly.

“I’m happy you’re here,” a sigh and hum mixed together from her melted away any tension or worry. He tightened his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You’re a marvel, Emma.”

They fell asleep together, dreaming only of the contentment he felt with her.

They shared a Thanksgiving meal with the Red’s, Crimson outdoing herself with meats and side dishes. Ruby poured wine she had gotten from a Satyr in their glasses, the raucous euphoria rising higher and causing Emma and Killian to stay overnight. Ruby’s grin at their sharing a bed and open affection was infectious and Emma fell asleep in his arms smiling blissfully.

Her dreams shattered the happiness, Killian pulled into them and falling through dark memories that Emma fought to suppress even as she slept. Flits of blurred thoughts and occurrences that swirled together into a dizzying puzzle, Killian left to sort through pieces without any idea what he was putting together.

_“Ems, don’t worry so much, of course I’ll come back for you. Once I get my pendant, I ca put it on him and control it with this charm.” A shaggy haired younger man held something in his hand, but Killian couldn’t see, just heard Emma’s hum of understanding. “All I need you to do, is sing. You distract them, I grab the magic I need for the portal, then we go get the pendant and leave this place.” Emma chewed her lip before nodding, and Killian could feel her nervousness as he tumbled into -_

_“Emma, he took you to steal magic from someone powerful. You have no idea what we’re trying to protect you from! Listen to us, please -” A man shouting, eyes identical to Emma’s own, pleading as a brunette wrung her hands by his side. Her parents?_

_“He needs it to escape, and I’m going with him. I don’t want to be trapped here, I don’t want the throne if it means giving up freedom and love, please, you both have true love and I want it so much -”_

_“Emma,” The brunette stepped forward, tears running down her cheeks. “He isn’t your true love, please, he’s dangerous and I’m afraid he’ll -”_

_“What? That he’ll take me away from you? That he’ll let me use my magic, let me be free and live outside of this cage?” Emma’s face was full of rage, her hands balled into fists, hair and dress swirling around her. Her eyes gleamed, and she took a step back. “Good. Be afraid.”_

_She disappeared in a cloud of smoke, bubbles and light, and Killian fell further, down into depths where he was choking, gasping -_

_“You stupid, arrogant, rotten -” A crocodile headed beast stood clutching her neck, Emma shaking and clawing at it’s taloned hands. It’s voice seemed so familiar but he couldn’t place where. “You know how I’m going to keep you? I have this spell you see, you can’t say anything about your curse to anyone. Not by writing, not by your abilities, and certainly not by talking. I should rip it out of your mouth…” The creature reached its hand, tracing her lower lip as her struggle weakened, gasps softening. Blood dripped from the line it drew._

_It dropped Emma, and she landed with a thunk, taking deep gulps of air. She looked up at the monster, horrified._

_“As for the necklace, well, it’s much worse. It will -”_

The memory was gone and Killian felt her choking coughs next to him, his arms wrapping around her waist tightly as he rubbed her back.

“Hush, love. I’ve got you.” He whispered, and the soft sigh she gave back melted him. She still hadn’t said anything in regards to his ‘I love you’, but moments where she felt safe in his arms wriggled in his head as proof of there being something more. He sent a memory of laying in the mid afternoon sun on a blanket, pointing out shapes in the clouds. Emma buried herself into his body, going boneless against his chest and they fell into a dreamless sleep.

The club patrons had dwindled in the cold weather, Emma’s employer surprisingly giving her the several weeks after Thanksgiving alone and off for the Christmas holiday. Killian thought was a gift itself, another presenting itself as Emma appeared at his door with a carpetbag that contained what she would need to stay with him, ready for him to unwrap her from her coat. His normally bleak apartment became filled with life and light, a tree in the window decorated with popcorn, ornaments and beads. When he returned from work she was waiting for him with a grin, some nights making dinner or attempts at it, other nights a recipe picked for him to show her how to make.

He cherished those days, a feeling growing that something was off with her.

Emma hadn’t said anything that should make him feel this way, but there was something in the way she would look at him or laugh that was just the tiniest flicker of sorrow, like she was waiting for the world to give way and suck her in. Her thoughts were also more guarded, and she slept deeply, struggling to wake in the morning and not stirring at night. Killian could feel out the quiet onset of wrongness that settled like a phantom over their happiness. The thought of her disappearing from his life chilled him, the idea like cutting out his own heart.

Their love had become fragile in his hands, and no matter how close he held it, he felt it’s eggshell thin vulnerability like a stone in his stomach.

The first cracks in their veneer started when he suggested they get away for a few days, trying to free himself of what he dismissed as paranoia. They could take a train to the countryside, relax and sip mulled wine over a fireplace while someone else did the dishes.

“Imagine us, a huge bed, a fireplace with crackling logs…” Killian nipped at where her neck met her shoulder, pushing blonde curls away to kiss up to her ear. Emma sighed into his embrace, leaning back against him in his bed. “There’s whole lodges where you can ski or catch a dinner show, let someone else do the performing and the cooking, just relax -”

“I’m just happy to be here with you,” Emma turned, looking at him with an intense and pleading stare. “Can’t this be enough?”

“It is, I’m just suggesting we -” He tried to add, but she pulled away, covering herself in a discarded silk robe.

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Killian. Im fine. I’m relaxed enough here, with you, without the bells and whistles.” Her voice was tight, underlying anger he could feel licking at the link they shared as she tried to press a smile on her face.

“Emma, love, I don’t understand why this is making you angry -” He tried to begin, and the rigidity in her body increased, her shoulders stiff and pulled back.

“I’m just…” She chewed her lip, closing her eyes and taking a breath. He tried to reach her in the link but was pressed back harshly, her eyes snapping open. “Why is nothing ever enough? Why can’t you just let this be enough, and not push and push, just let this be and stop! Just stop! I asked you to stop asking why I can’t leave, to stop pushing, why can’t you just stop!” She cried out, and turned away from him, bracing herself on the arched entrance to his kitchenette.

“Emma, I’m sorry.” Killian rose to move to her side, gently touching her shoulder. She threw herself into his arms, shaking in quiet sobs as he held her, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “We don’t have to leave, we don’t have to go anywhere. This is enough, you are enough.” She sniffled, and he hugged her closer. “You’re even more than enough, to the point I don’t know what I did to deserve you. Maybe sometimes even too much.” She smacked his chest and looked up at him with a watery smile.

“Please. I…” She trailed off and there was flicker of something behind her eyes that left him blinking. “What, darling?”

“Don’t ask if we can leave again. I just… This, this is wonderful.”

“I promise, I promise I won’t.” Killian kissed the knuckles of her fingers, stroking them gently.

Christmas Eve finally rolled around, and they exchanged presents just after midnight by candlelight, the first gifts of Christmas morning that Emma insisted was a tradition. she presented him with beautiful leather gloves, perfectly fitted for the prosthetic he hated attention drawn too. The leather was soft and pliant, Scarlet had worked his magic on it and left it well cured and strong with plenty of give.

He gave Emma a journal with pages that had pressed flowers that still smelled of the original blooms, scenting the pages. He’d written on the first page where the nameplate was stamped in a floral filled box, just in the corner above it.

_‘For notes and whatever crosses the mind that drives me mad, and keeps me enthralled’_

Emma pressed it close to her chest, looking at him in adoration. He gave her the second gift in the long velvet box, opening it for her before she could say anything. “I know you love that pendant, and it means something to you. I love the swan on it and I get how attached you are, but I saw this and thought of you. It’s still a swan, but it’s brighter, it’s just so much more just like you. If I overstepped -”

She reared back from him as if she’d been burned, emotions crossing her face in a blur. Anger, sadness, and a longing look that settled as she finally let herself lean back in to take the box from his hands.

The swan necklace inside the box was smaller, and silver instead of her golden pendant. It was on a thin silver chain, and the pendant was covered in a mother of pearl inlay that glittered even with no light. Emeralds crossed its thin silver neck to make a bow. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she stared at the piece. Everything was quiet for several minutes as she stared.

“Emma?” He whispered. She closed the box, pushing it in his hands back towards him. “Take it back.” Her voice was bitter and full of venom, and she swiped at her eyes. “Take it back, I don’t want it. You were right, you overstepped. I…” She shook her head, and the look she gave him was the angriest he’d ever seen her. “I never want to see it again, burn it, give it away, take it back, sell it - but I don't want it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“I just…” Emma gripped her own pendant tightly, her entire fist over the golden swan squeezing until her knuckles went white. Opening her mouth to say something, and then shaking her head, she stood and walked to the bed, throwing her things together into the carpetbag she had brought to stay with him. He threw the jewelry aside, moving to grab her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t… I need to leave.” she whispered, and tried to move to throw something lacy into the bag.

Killian watched her, pushing through the link, trying to find any answer to her sudden actions. Her mind was racing, and he managed to catch a jumble of thoughts that she couldn’t stop, trying to untangle their meaning.

“Emma, please. Please, I’m sorry.” Killian pulled her close, and she let out a shuddered breath. “Stop. I’ll get rid of it, just, please. I didn’t mean to hurt you, or make you feel like this.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry for acting like this, let’s just… Let’s just, can we go to bed? I think I’m just exhausted, and tomorrow we can start over and drink hot cocoa, and have a wonderful Christmas day. I didn’t mean to make this awkward, or anything.”

“Aye, Emma. Let’s head to bed.” He murmured, and the phantom creeped closer, looming like a monster. Killian could feel it breathing on his neck, especially as he went over those few precious thoughts that had spilled before she could hide them.

_I would wear it in a heartbeat if could, I love it. It’s beautiful, I wish I could tell him everything._

Things had been tense since Christmas, but he tried to put that behind them as Emma prepared for the New Year’s show she was to sing for, a speech by the Mayor prepared to bring everyone into a better new year. Emma had rolled her eyes, claiming it was about light and goodness, and she had to choose a song and set accordingly.

Emma practiced in his apartment or he strummed chords on guitar while they were both nude in her room, the smell of sex still hanging heavy in the air. It was more frustration sex than anything, or for inspiration as she had said, and Killian had laughed, shrugging off her easy dismissal of him with hope that she would admit her feelings.

On the second to last day of December, it was sunny, snow melting for the first time in weeks. He’d gone to lunch for a change, letting Emma know. When he returned to the precinct and his desk, Emma was there looking at the pictures of the long cold case he’d met her while working.

“Emma? Everything alright, love?” Touching her arm, she blinked out of a deep thought.

“Yes, sorry. I’ve been so distracted today - I… I brought you lunch.” She handed him a small parchment wrapped sandwich.

“I already ate, I told you I was going to that shop around the corner. I didn’t want you to trouble yourself today, I know you’re under stress with finding a song in a crunch.” He gathered the pictures and returned them to the manilla file as Emma frowned.

“Killian.” She said, the serious tone of her voice surprising him. “Did you ever find out what did this to them?”

He shook his head no. “I wish love. The case is long cold.”

“It… That’s a siren’s work.” She spoke thickly, eyes downcast at the floor. “That’s how… That’s how some eat, it sustains them longer. Makes them more vibrant.”

“A siren?” He looked at her incredulously. “Your sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Do you know of any others in the area? Emma you may have cracked this -”

“I only know of you and I.” She stared at him hard, lips set firm. “And you obviously didn’t, you don’t know how.”

“Well then... “ Killian sighed, leaning back in his chair, carding a hand over is face. “I guess that’s that, it was probably one of us that wasn’t from around here. I mean, unless you did it.” He grinned at her, but she didn’t return the smile.

“Yes, unless I did it.”

“You would be one hell of a femme fatale, you’ve practically killed me on multiple occasions.” He stood, quickly pressing a kiss to her temple. “I need to get back to work, I’ll see you tonight?” Emma wrung her hands, shaking her head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I have rehearsal tonight.” Giving him a weak smile, she walked towards out the door.

“Don’t let him be too rough with you, alright?” Giving a wave, he didn’t notice the way her body tensed before stepping into the light, and cold.

Emma wasn’t in her room when he arrived, the window blowing in cold air through the hatch and blowing around the various dresses, pictures and ornaments all hanging haphazardly. Killian walked up the narrow stairs, and poked his head out of the hatch, looking at the wind whipping her hair around her face. She was barefoot, dressed in a slip and lace shawl, looking out at the ocean while swaying slightly. The charm for warmth he’d given her wasn’t on her person, he could feel the chill through her skin.

She stepped forward, looking over the edge of the building, closing her eyes. Emma let her mind go, and Killian crept inside in the moment of weakness, wanting to soothe.

Her feet bare on the cement, freezing on the smooth surface as she gazed down below. Docks stretched out like fingers, reaching towards a horizon where she was barred from, held back and unable to call for help. Her heart ached for home. Her body ached to return to the elements, for even as brief as a moment.

Being bound to this place was agony, and what would she tell Killian, how could she tell him?

Feeling anything but this, escaping the knowledge of what was going to happen. Emma could feel the rush until she hit the pavement, wishing for the relief of what that would mean. Freedom. Nothingness. If only the terms of her servitude allowed even that escape -

Killian shook her and himself out of her thoughts, pulling her back from the ledge.

“Bloody hell, what are you even -” Her teeth chattered, and she shook her head, eyes suddenly wide with fear. “Emma, love, you’re freezing! What in hell’s name, come on. Come on.” leading her down back into her room and closing the latch behind him, she sat on her bed with her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry Killian. I am just so -”

“Swan, whatever this is, whatever bothers you this much…” He nodded his head slightly, sealing his decision. “It can wait one more day. We can find amends in the new year, and have tonight.”

She choked out a laugh, crying unabashedly. He sat by her and held her in his arms, letting her sob. “You’re wonderful, you’re so wonderful to me and I don’t deserve any of it. I hope you know how much you mean to me, even if I…” Cupping his cheek in her hand, her eyes bore into his but the words he longed to hear never came. Her face turned into a mask of shame. She opened her mouth to speak, and when words wouldn’t come, she shook her head squeezing her eyes shut. “I can’t… I’ve given myself to you in the ways I can. Thank you for it being enough, even for today and tonight, this is all I can give you and I am so sorry.”

Not caring for the inevitable consequences, Killian kissed her softly, holding her face in his. The shared thought that fell between them was like a sigh, knowing that everything would change after whatever she would share. Killian could feel the bleating thought underneath everything, she was going to leave, but not before he’d break whatever curse held her here. He could feel that she loved him. He wouldn’t rest until he could hear her say it and free her.

Dressed in silver with poinsettia combs in her hair, he heard the song she finally chose.

_“I never cared much for moonlight skies, I never wink at fireflies,_

_But now that the stars are in your eyes, I'm beginning to see the light._

_I never went for after-glow, candle light on the mistletoe,_

_But now when you turn the lamp down low, I'm beginning to see the light._

_Used to ramble through the park, shadow boxing in the dark,_

_Then you came and caused a spark, that's a four-alarm fire now._

_I never made love by lantern shine, I never saw rainbows on my wine,_

_But now that your lips are burning mine, I'm beginning to see the light.”_

Gold wasn’t in attendance as Mayor Mills gave her speech, smiling wide with a lovestruck Locksley by her side.

“I can't wait to see what's in store for me next year. Well, what’s in store for everyone. I refuse to believe there won't be more adventures... more love... more family. And yes, there maybe more loss, because that's just a part of life. And in the end, we can get past it all, with hope. I wish you all hope in the new year!”

A raucous cheer went out, and Emma lead Killian threw the crowd and up into her room, fingers intertwined with his own. Her dress slid off easily when they kissed as the crowd shouted in the new year below, hands roaming over her soft skin and pinching her nipples into peaks. Her nails bit into his back, and he moved to bring her up again and again before it was too much and then again after. The last cry of relief Emma let out was branded on his lips, sealed like wax on an artist’s love letter.

They dreamt together, traveling through favorite places and memories.

In reality, he could feel their bodies still tangled together, Emma clinging to him tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.

Morning came all to quick, and Killian rose early, half hungover from champagne and their shared exertions. He groggily stumbled to get some water from the faucet of her tub, but jostled her vanity on his way out of the bed, one foot clumsily stuck in one of her blankets. A wooden cigar box tumbled to the floor, it’s lid splayed open, spread like wings of a bird.

The cigar box was nondescript, out of place among the other things she’d collected, no markings or decoration. He picked it up, noticing the things that fell out. Cufflinks shaped like swords, a single small gold ear hoop. The largest of the items was a watch, gaudy and gold with a leaf patterned inlay. Opening it, the inscription caught his eye.

‘M. Pann’. He dropped it in shock. The cufflinks were no doubt Arthur’s, the earring Blackbeard’s. No, it couldn’t be, Emma would never. He opened the box to look inside begging his gut to be wrong. His stomach turned as he stared at the all too familiar set of rings Silver had worn on his left hand, that had leant him his namesake.

A antler belt buckle, the worn hide scrap of a work belt still attached to it, ripped along the edge. Gaston.

Gathering the box under his arm, he turned to gather his other belongings. Emma stretched under the blankets, her hair a mess and eyes bleary. His heart ached as she smiled at him, happiness that turned into fear as she saw the box. She sat up, watching him on the bed, wringing her hands.

“I can explain -”

“Tell me you didn’t do this.” He whispered. His mouth tasted sour, betrayal bitter as her face crumbled. “Emma, please love, say you didn’t -”

“I can’t.” she stood, reaching for him as she threw on a dressing gown. “Just let me explain, I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you. I didn’t do this, I -” she let out a strangled noise, frustratingly grabbing at her throat.

“I’m taking all of this back to the precinct. You can explain there,” he hissed, eyes surveying her with disgust. “When did you plan on telling me you killed other men as a pastime? Was I on your list?”

She looked away from him, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Let me guess, you spared me because I was partially one of your own wretched kind?” he spat, his anger growing. “You are a foul creature, I should have known, I should have-”

“Please, you don’t understand - ” Emma cried, as he looked for his shoes and hat. “I’m begging you, I’m not a monster, I can’t -”

“You killed 6 men!” He turned to face her suddenly, grasping her wrists. “You’re a murderer, and you sat here with me knowing -”

“I couldn’t tell you! I _can’t_ tell you. I’m begging you, I need your help but I can’t -” her eyes were wet and he felt sick to his stomach as he heard her echo in his mind.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t? You used me, you distracted me from casework, you seduced me to -” He grabbed his shoes, slipping them on sitting on the edge of the bed. “None of this was even real. No wonder you couldn’t even utter a simple ‘I love you’. I’m such a fucking git. You made me think, I thought I loved you. I almost…” He trembled, running a hand through his hair. “Did you destroy the files? Tamper with the photo negatives?”

“I had no choice. I was doing what I had to do, and then things changed. I love you, I didn't lie to you about loving you, my feelings are real, please-”

“You’re a damn good liar Swan. I don't know how I ever believed you cared about me, how I thought I might free you from whatever the bloody hell this is, or how I let you in my head.”

As he took his coat off her bed, there was a noise downstairs of the door creaking open. Emma’s face drained of color, a look of pure terror replacing her upset. “You have to hide.” She hissed, pushing him toward her armoire.

“I’ll do nothing of the sort. What is wrong with you -” His head began to ring with her panic, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get out of my head!”

The noise of someone dragging something up the stairs became louder.

“You’ve stayed too late, you have to hide, please. He wasn’t supposed to be back, he shouldn’t be here!” She touched his face and he flinched away. “Killian, I am begging you. Please.”

“I hate that I ever cared for you. You deserve to be alone, you are a monster.” She stepped back as if he’d slapped her.

“Please, I don’t care if you hate me, and I know I hurt you. I can’t see you get hurt anymore.” Her begging finally wore him down.

“This is the last thing I’ll ever do for you, Emma. My last kindness. I hope for your sake, it’s not wasted.”

His head echoing with her pleading cries, he stepped into the armoire, scrunching himself under long silk and crepe gowns. She closed the doors, leaving only the tiniest crack for him to see through. He watched her, noting her nervous movements, and the way her hand immediately reach for the swan necklace around her neck.

The door opened with a loud thud, the handle hitting the wall where the well worn indent had been. Emma frowned at the man who emerged, dragging a bound man who bled as he writhed on the floor.

“I’ve brought you a little gift, dearie.” Killian blinked. Mr. Gold? Why would he be here, of all places - “I don’t want him. Please, I can’t do this anym -” Emma’s voice strong and willful, cut off by a gasping choking noise. She clawed at her neck, tiptoes barely on the ground as the necklace around her throat tightened and pulled up. Gold sat smirking, a small item in his hand that he stroked a thumb over again and again. Emma’s face reddened, and her pain was a low moan in his mind that sent chills through him. Gold put the item back in his pocket, and Emma fell unceremoniously to the ground, silent. The color fell from her cheeks, eyes dulling and staring forward.

_**Emma…?** _

There was no reply, her body still and unmoving on the ground. His heart froze, and Gold let out a titter, poking her with his toe.

“I don’t have all day, dearie. You know our deal. You’re not _released_ yet.” Emma spasmed coughing, her chest rising in a movement that took her shoulders up high enough to lift her back off the floor. The pain he could feel from it was shocking, and so great it left him without breath himself. The man grinned as he nudged her with his toe again. Killian could not see the bound man, but could hear his moans of fear.

“Let me ask this time, a little more nicely.” Gold said in a hissing honeyed voice. “I’d like for you to have a snack. Just one little meal. I’ve brought him all this way for you out of the kindness of my heart.” He rolled his r’s menacingly and Killian clenched his hand into a fist, wanting to end this imp’s existence. She couldn’t _die_.

This was the curse or pact. An unending existence of loneliness, unable to die, escape, or share love with another.

Emma glanced at him for just a moment, and then back up at Gold. He caught the whispered words that drifted through him, a gentle hum.

_I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry._

“No,” she rasped, hoarsely, coughing again. Gold frowned. “You are so willful today. Not hungry? On a diet? Feeling like coming back to life again and again? We can play this all night but we have a deal, and you’re paying the price. How about I make you jump off the roof again, or bury you in a coffin. Your little boy toy won’t get to see you before we leave that way.”

“Kill me then. Let me die, actually let me die. Please.” Emma wheezed as she lifted herself up with his pant legs, the beads on her dressing gown scratching against the floor. “Gods, Please. You tricked me into this deal because Bae -”

Gold kicked out hard, sending her sprawling. “Don’t you ever say his name, you witch! He traded you like the worthless creature you are.” His hand was in his pocket, and Killian could see the object Gold fiddled with now - a small key ring with a swan insignia. He pulled a matchbook out of his pocket, lighting one. “You know I won’t let you escape our deal. Bae left me with you. You agreed to this, all for love.”

“Please don’t, please -”

He placed the match under the keyring’s corner, the metal glowing red hot under the Swan’s enamel. Emma’s screams of pain echoed, as she cried out, the skin blistering and healing again and again and again -

Killian couldn’t watch any longer, his gun drawn as he burst out of the armoire. “Stop it. Put it down.” He spoke methodically, his gun pointed at Gold’s chest. Gold laughed at him, looking genuinely amused. The match burnt out, and Emma let out a panting breath of fear.

_Killian, no. What have you done?_

“I’m afraid I hold all the cards in this deck.” Gold smiled. “If you shoot me, this keychain here? I simply use a little bit of my own magic, taking Ms. Swan and our guest with me. A swan song, if you will. And I don’t think you could handle being accused of murdering the last three people you interviewed for a case… Especially when Mayor Mills comes down on you for murdering her darling husband and you told Nemo you’re seeing ‘magic’.”

Locksley groaned in his bonds, and Killian’s brow beaded with sweat. “You see, you’ve got yourself into quite the predicament dearie. I will offer you a deal: I let you and Locksley go, and you both go on with your lives. I will not hurt you. We’ll leave you well enough alone, my work here was done days ago. Locksley was going to be a special treat for myself; I do love seeing Madame Mayor angry.”

“You’re a Demon,” Killian growled. “A bloody devil.”

“Well. Yes, actually. A Demon. You should be thankful, I’m cleaning up the town, in my own way. At least until I can truly get revenge on my old summoner who reneged on a deal for something I truly desire. Locksley was supposed to be… A consolation prize, if you would. It isn’t wise to refuse me.” Gold sighed, and looked at the key ring in his hand. “I’m feeling generous though, and would like to leave without the fuss. I’ll even let Emma here tell you how you are her ‘twue wove’ like she was convinced Baelfire was. It’s been decades.”

_Killian, take Locksley and go. Please._  

_**I** _ _**can’t leave you with that monster, I -** _

_No. I’m sorry. I… I love you. I love you, so much. I’ve wanted to scream it for weeks, it feels so good to say, and I’m so sorry, I love you. Forgive me for this._

“I’ve made a choice for him.” Emma whispered. “He will take Locksley and go, you will not hurt him or the other man. Just… give me a moment.”

Killian looked at her incredulously, but Gold nodded. “Then the deal is made. Don’t be surprised by the price later - My pets behave.” Gold stepped over Locksley, pushing him forward to shut the door as he headed to the hallway.

“I told you once, that this wouldn’t work on you. I’m sorry I lied, but it’s a half truth: I could never influence you. The only thing I can do is make you forget, at least for a time.” Lifting herself gingerly, she leaned her body against her small vanity table. Killian moved towards her, gathering her in his arms. “Don’t do this, I’ll shoot him through the bloody door if I have to, just -” She shook her head, a small sad smile on her lips.

“Thank you for everything. I love you so much. You are the kindest and most loving man I’ve ever met. I wish you every happiness.” She stood with him, locking his eyes with hers.

“Emma, Don’t -”

“I would give you my heart again every day if I could. You are the song I couldn’t name that has played there every day. I love you, I love you so much Killian, and I’ll never regret not being able to tell you more, I wish there were heavier words to say,” She cupped his cheek with her hand, as he felt frozen in place. The air around them changed to kaleidoscopic liquid, even as tears fell from her eyes, and his own. “Tell me you love me, one last time?”

“I love you, Emma Swan,” he whispered. The world took on a dream like quality, and he was aware of warm lips on his, soft and gentle. A hand on his cheek, warm, so warm, and then gone. A voice, an angel? His dream was so blurry, he couldn’t place why he saw golden sunshine, green fields of home, or why he was so sad when the soft feminine voice carried on a breeze like a song. Someone was singing, her voice beautiful and sad.

_“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you But in your dreams, whatever they be Dream a little dream of me_

_Dream a little dream of me..._

_You’ll find me, my heart,_

_I have hope.”_

Killian woke up in a bar, soaked in rum and feeling hungover as hell. The night before was a blur; he remembered satin with beads, maybe a woman or two’s warmth, A searing kiss as the new year began, and hearing some kind of music - other than that he hadn’t a clue. He groaned, searching for his watch, and when he didn’t find it in his pocket he groped around the booth.

He found, instead, Locksley’s leg. The other man let out a low moan of pain, and if Killian had been pissed, Robin was three shades to the wind. His face was mottled purple and covered in dried blood; the man looked like he’d been through hell and back.

“What?” Robin grumbled. “Christ, Jones, what the hell happened last night? I mean it was new year’s, but - Oh holy hell mate. You look a right mess,” The other man touched the side of his face wincing. “Regina is going to kill me. What time even is it?”

Killian shook his head. “I don’t even know where we are. I’m assuming someone gave us wood alcohol, we’re lucky we aren’t blind. Cheap bartenders using tricks on holiday goers.” He fished around until he pulled the watch from between the booth. The clasp opened and a folded slip of pink paper fluttered out. Reaching to pick it up, he looked at it confused, unfolding it carefully. ‘You found me! I miss you. Listen for me tonight, it’s for you. Everything I can’t say. -E’

Closing the watch and placing it back in his pocket with the note, he helped Robin up. “What’s that, then?” Robin asked. “No bloody clue, mate.”

“You’re fired.” Nemo spoke calmly, unable to look Killian in the eyes as they sat in his office. It had been two months since the first incident, and Killian understood the inevitability of this confrontation. He couldn’t blame Nemo. No one could. He closed his tired eyes, letting the colors swim into a blur, trying not to let his mind wander.

He finally spoke up, trying to avoid the incoming lecture or possible committal to a state institution.

“I’ll take another break, Captain. I'm sorry. Give me some more time.”

“Killian, you need some help. I don’t know what’s going on with you, no one does, and we’re concerned.”

The words blurred away, replaced by soft humming. Killian could hear it right in his ear, her voice humming faintly and sadly. If he focused and let himself drift, he could hear the sound of a brush running through her hair, the smell of the ocean. Sounds of her crying filled his head, so loud -

“Jones!”

He jerked back to reality, trying to block the noise.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” He stood up rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “My badge is in my drawer, and my reports are caught up.”

“You shouldn't be alone, Jones.”

Killian laughed, the absurdity of the statement and situation overwhelming for a moment.

“Trust me, I won't be.”

His normally pristine desk was a mess of paperwork, scraps of paper he'd scribbled words onto, and objects he didn't remember placing: a pair of dark leather gloves, a small collection of smooth sea glass, and a catalog of small sailing ships. Finding a box, divided the items into the trash. He kept the gloves, and a particularly green piece of the sea glass. If he looked at it just right, it seemed to be shaped like a swan.

Rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, he tried to block out a pained coughing noise that rustled across his mind as he sorted through the drawers.

_He’d been hallucinating. Hearing things. Feeling things. It had started with another headache after he’d dropped Robin off to his grateful wife. He thought his ears were ringing from the sound of her shouts as he left their place, his head pounding in the taxi back to his apartment. Laying down in his bed, he fell asleep even as the noise persisted._

_In his dreams, the noise got louder, turning into a low humming noise. Instead of taking him back to the water and explosions of a past life, the humming grew louder, turning into a low moan of pain. He could hear a man speaking slowly, with malicious intonation._

_“Well, you've gotten yourself into quite a mess. Wouldn't it have been easier to just do things my way?”_

_There was a whimpering noise, and in his dream he felt someone else's pain, a sharp crack across his temple as stars burst against his eyelids. His name whispered so mournfully, like the soft stroke of a piano key. His sleep was more fitful than usual, strange dreams of cramped quarters, the taste of salt, mold, and wet wood. The sound of a ship’s horn, as a cold fog made someone shiver, gathering the body into a ball._

_He woke up, heart racing, gasping for air. Splashing cold water on his face he headed into the precinct. On his desk was a file to a case he'd never worked, about a club that never existed - he'd headed there just to be sure, only to find the quiet stillness of an empty jazz club. The landlord begrudgingly opened the doors for him, a strange sense of deja vu settling in his bones._

_As Killian entered the club, he could practically hear the music of some forgotten singer that had once graced the stage._

_A hazy phantom crossed his vision of an angel reaching for him as she sang, the heavens themselves trying to pull her back. Killian reached forward, only to find stale air. He shook his head, cursing the lack of sleep._

_A small dressing room up the stairs smelled faintly of perfume and bleach, but nothing other than an indentation where a door knob would hit and faint scratches in the woods was amiss._

_“ **I am yours, Killian,** ” a voice whispered in his ear, so real he could almost feel the breath on his neck. He spun, but there was no one but him in the empty room ._

_“Hello?” He opened an empty armoire, there was no one._

_He sat on the small unmade bed, a mattress in a boxed frame, face in his hands. His exhaustion was more crippling than he originally thought. When was the last time he got good sleep?_

_A slip of white under the mattress caught his eye, stark contrast against the wooden floors and iron bed frame. A rolled piece of paper, torn on one edge. Uncurling it, he felt his sanity slip further, not understanding what he was looking at._

_The paper was raw on the ripped edge, showing one eye, long strands of hair floating under starlight, the partial half of a smile on the face of a woman sketched in coal. The sketch itself didn't bother him nearly as much as his signature on the bottom corner, with half of a handwritten note in his script,_

_“You outshine the stars above.”_

_Killian rubbed his eyes, but this wasn't an illusion. He'd been to this forgotten and abandoned place before - but when? More importantly, why?_

_Staring down at the sketch, he could almost make out in the blurred vision of a dream, the colors of a starlit night, a warm hand in his as he laughed with someone…_

_**“Stars shining bright above you** _

**_Night breezes seem to whisper…”_ **

_He left, and handed in the case for another detective. Nemo hadn't asked questions, until the next week, when Killian had shown up to work looking half dead and smelling of liquor._

_“Take some time off, a day or two, and sort out what's going on. That case file you handed in? I don’t know what’s going on with you but there’s nothing in here unsolved. Those deaths were ruled non-homicide.”_

_“Nemo, please don't make me go home.” He looked down, aware that he would sound crazy as he ran a hand through greasy hair. How do you tell your boss that you're hearing and seeing a woman who isn't there? He had no doubts she didn't exist; more truthfully, something in his brain would not allow that thought. She was a figment, some strange splinter of absurdity that had infected him with lunacy._

_Nemo, ever patient and understanding, lent him the keys to his quiet cabin by the sea. It didn't help; she was there. She was worse._

_He could hear her crying, whispering his name, her quiet sigh of sleep or frustration. And here, the torture was even more barbaric: he could feel her, not just pain. She was louder, somehow, more pronounced and clear to the point it felt like someone was next to him. Here by the water, she had a presence, was more real than ghost. Even more frustrating was the feeling of needing to be somewhere, a pull like a magnet to some unknown place. He had Nemo's car, driving it into town once to indulge his insanity and seeking to find where phantom threads lead, only to find an abandoned building situated on the docks. It had once been a bar, a sign falling off the awning in a slanted slope, covered in moss and weathered with time. He peeked in the windows, covered in boards and newspapers as the building creaked. Around a corner, the tug turned into an incessant pulling, like being attached to a fish on a hook that was far too big and strong. Being here was wrong, he shouldn’t be here, or anywhere near here. If he stayed he was going to die, fear flooded him, his own or this woman’s, her voice no longer crazed but a rioting cry that screamed in his mind to flee, so loud he crouched and covered his ears. Silence flooded him, pouring over him like a shadow in Summer heat. Her voice was gone, cut off in a single stroke._

_He didn't stay long after, shivering in the cold from the sea, feeling the rattle in his bones. This place left him cold, and unsettled, the feeling of wrongness easing as he drove away, grateful for the reprieve._

_After that, things did get better for a while. He had a strange feeling that something was off, but the voice was quiet or so docile it didn't bother him. The discordant feeling of loss was still there, but dampered by a layer of numbness akin almost to sleep. His vision began to clear, no longer seeing strange shadowy figures, sparks, mist or any other blights of madness._

_Killian rested. He went back to work, fulfilling his duties and responsibilities without concern._

_The bottom dropped out when he could hear an oily man's voice, whispering to someone._

_“No more sedative. She needs to sing.” The madness returned rapidly and with no quarter. She was back. He begged as he always did to be free, but she either could not or would not grant him reprieve. She sang choking songs of anger and hatred, the male voice spitting in violent rage about her being broken._

_**“You don't own me** _

**_Don't try to change me in any way_ **

**_You don't own me_ **

**_Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay_ **

**_I don't tell you what to say_ **

**_I don't tell you what to do”_ **

_“You stupid, stupid, creature. Keep it up, dearie. See what happens.”_

_Killian tried everything to block out these songs, the male voice with it's hissed threats, or her rasping coughs. He learned to mask his rum heavy breath with mint, and survive completely numb to drown out whenever things got bad._

_The only thing that soothed was when she sang lovingly for something she had lost, the words and melody almost as if they were made for him. Maybe they were, considering she was his delusion. She sang this way only late in the evening, and very rarely. She'd whisper his name, and he wished he could help her find what she was looking for._

Carrying out his desk in a box, he was almost not paying attention when one of the ladies of the night sitting in booking whistled at him.

“You done working in this shithole, Jones? Good, now you can bring your girlfriend on by. Cruella and that pretty thing will show you a good time, I won't even charge her, she's that pretty.”

He blinked, walking up to her.

“What girlfriend?”

She laughed. “That fancy blonde you interviewed with that creepy character, you were looking at her like it was the first time you’d ever seen a woman. Irma, or Emilie and that Mr. Ghoul fellow.”

“I never interviewed anyone remotely by those names.” He rolled his eyes, turning away from her. “Lay off lying to officers and on your back, DeVille.”

“Ella? No… Etta? No but close. Oh! Emma! Her name was Emma. Even I have to say, tacky name wise, Emma is a classic fit -”

He tuned her out as she prattled on, his heart beating faster. Emma. He rolled it around in his mouth, the pain in his head splitting, flickers of blonde hair invading his memory and the smell of vanilla coming off satin -

_“They call me Swan.”_

_“Singing is the closest I feel to being free.”_

_Her voice, wrapping him in comfort, pleasure, warmth and the joy of her company, ringing clear:_

_“I'll be seeing you In every lovely summer's day In everything that's light and gay I'll always think of you that way I'll find you in the morning sun And when the night is new I'll be looking at the moon But I'll be seeing you”_

_“I don't think you could handle 'it’.”_

_“Mythical creatures, mind links, magic… I feel like I should be overwhelmed by this, by all of this, but I'm not…” They strolled the fae market, fingers laced. The magical sky was filled with fluffy clouds, a strange vendor selling a caterpillar the puffed smoke into colored shapes entertaining a bawdy group of children, all different species._

_“Why” Emma looked up at him, and the sky reflected in her eyes, pink, purple, and blue animals and sunshine against a deepening emerald._

_“Emma, you of course. You're the best guide I could have hoped for.“_

_“Killian, I'm nothing special, I am just a lost girl who found you and knew enough to help - “_

_“Emma. You're so much more.” The low rumble of the creatures underneath their flesh echoed, a flash of how Emma saw herself in his mind’s eye; a small wide eyed girl, abandoned, alone. “You are not alone. Do you know how I see you?”_

 

_The link rippled, her eyes wide and glassy._

_He showed her how beautiful she was, so strong, a warrior, an enchantress, a lithe goddess rivaling Artemis or other unnamed queens who fought for better, how good she tasted when he pressed his tongue against every inch of her skin. He showed her how smart she was, and his adoration of her challenges when her chin tipped upwards, the fire in her eyes like the legends of willowisps from home, green flame that burned him with its intensity._

_He showed her the quiet moments of just them being together, her reading while he wrote notes or filled out reports, or pointing out constellations on the roof of her bedroom, still sweaty from sex, while she hummed along curled next to him and lit by starlight._

_There underneath everything, so quiet he was sure it was imagined, the part of him he had never known sang, finally free from it's cage. He was alive, fully alive thanks to Emma, and the song was a feeble whispered thank you whispered like a snuffed candle at day break. Neither Emma or Killian could hear it clearly, but the feeling washed over them as she kissed him softly._

_The same song she now sang so rarely in the dark of night, filling his heart with a heavy sense of loss. How could he have forgotten?_

_I love you, my heart, I love you, my mate, I love you, my true love, I love you, my shared heart, I love you, I love you, I love you._

The box in his hands clattered to the floor.

“Cruella, I could kiss you!”

The woman arched an eyebrow. “Well I guess I wouldn't charge for just _you_ either, but you'd have to pay my bond -”

Killian didn’t hear, too intent on listening for Emma’s voice. She was far off, whatever thread connecting them stretched taut and thin. He strained to hear anything, searching for any indication of where she was. He’d heard her crying earlier, but now he heard the soft sound of waves and wind, cold seeping into his bones.

Emma was freezing. Her mind beat a single rhythm of staying alive as she shivered. He called a taxi from the front sidewalk, to head to the Locksley-Mills home. Robin was there when he arrived, and greeted him with a large clap on the back.

“Jones! I feel like I haven’t seen you in -” “Where’s Mayor Mills?”

“Regina? Oh she’s out, she’s been busy ever since I took that nasty turn at the bar, she says she owes you a favor for that one -” “Right, she can redeem it now: I need your car, the Rolls Royce and I promise -”

“The phantom iii? That’s Regina’s baby, she calls the damned thing Sydney and polishes it like a mirror, mate. What’s this all about, is everything -” “Tell Regina that the crocodile’s on the coast, and he’s the one that came for you. She’ll know what it means, just do it, alright? She’ll understand about the fucking car. Keys for it are where?”

“They’re over in that bowl, but it’s terrible weather for driving, this spring sleet and all. I really don’t think Regina would care for it being out. You should -”

Killian was gone, the keys snatched from the bowl as he ran to the garage.

As Killian grew closer, driving towards the sea and through sleepy towns, he could feel the link between them strengthen. He realized with an unsettling knot forming in his stomach that Emma was overwhelmingly weak. He’d been driving for almost 3 hours, feeling her so strongly he could hear her sharp breaths of cold air and her fear. His stomach knotted as he pressed forward, praying he could reach her. He’d try to call to her so many times, but after hearing no reply for so long he knew she had severed herself from him when she’d taken herself out of his life.

_A voice broke Emma’s concentration, and he felt her body begin to warm. Coughing echoed in his mind, and her voice rang out in a rasp. He could feel tile, warmth returning to her slowly, far off laughter and noise._ _“I won’t do it.”_

_“Now, now, dearie. I’ve come with a proposition. Another deal.” Gold’s voice felt wrong in his mind, a thick sludge defiling everything. Emma didn’t answer, but he could hear her thoughts._

A sign appeared in the night gloom, and he could feel the subtle tug of her presence.

_“A deal?” Emma's voice, wary and tired._

Killian pushed the car to go faster, screeching through the long winding road into the town.

_“What could you possibly offer me?” She whispered. “You’ve taken everything, you’ve broken everything, there’s nothing to stay for and nothing to leave for. What could you possibly -”_

_“I'd kill you.” Gold stated, simply and almost as an afterthought. “You could finally have peace. You sing one pretty little song and give me my prize, then I will happily put a bullet right through your temple. Quick and painless, which if you say no will be a pleasant thought. You will do this for me Emma.”_

_Killian felt his blood go to ice. “Swear it. Swear it on Baelfire that you’ll let me die, that you’ll kill me quickly and mercifully.” Emma whispered._

_Killian screamed for her to stop, to wait, he was coming for her, he would save her._

_“_ _I swear it, on my son.”_

_“_ _I will take your deal.” Emma let out a sob of relief and anguish, turning over on the thin cot as Gold left the room._

Killian came to a halt at the rundown club, the lights dim on the inside through windows covered in aged newspaper. He reached out again, feeling for Emma, but found no response from her. Her presence was close by though, and he looked for a way into the building.

_Unforgettable_  
That's what you are  
Unforgettable  
Tho' near or far 

Emma sang, her voice clear through the grime of the building. Killian pressed a shoulder hard to a door, stumbling through into what had once been a kitchen but has sat long unused for some time. Emma’s presence gave him strength, unafraid of the monster that had taken her from him.

“Emma!” He called out, pushing through another door, listening to her startled voice. He stumbled into the dusty dining room, the lights dim. A small, dark haired, woman sat tied to a chair, watching the stage. She looked dreamily over at Killian, and he recognized her as the book store owner he had interviewed briefly.

“Detective?” She slurred, turning back to the stage when chains clanked loudly.

Emma stood on the stage with her legs shackled, a large metal ball on a chain attached to one of the shackles. Her hair was stuck to her face, and her dress was ripped, dirty and wet. Bruises littered the exposed skin and Killian felt rage bubble up. She stared at him, like she was unsure if she was seeing a ghost. “Killian? How…? No! Gold, NO!”

“You just don’t give up, do you dearie?” Someone growled, and he turned to catch Gold’s cane across his face, stars lighting behind his eyes. Killian fel to the floor with a groan, listening to chains clanking and the heavy thud of something falling from the stage.

“Don’t hurt him, please, you promised you wouldn’t and you are bound by your deals, Demon!” Emma cried out, and he heart her chains close by as he pulled himself up. Gold kicked him roughly and he sprawled.

“That was for that instance -”

“I didn’t specify. You said, you will not hurt them. You are bound by your word Demon.” Emma hissed, dragging the heavy chain, finally reaching Killian’s form. The Demon hissed, seething, but Emma ignored it, focusing on pressing a kiss to Killian’s lips. She filled his mind again and he felt the sigh as the link returned.

_You’re the stupidest, most foolhardy, absolutely idiotic -_

_**You forgot dashing rapscallion, love.** _

_You shouldn’t have come, I don’t know how you did it, but you never should have -_

Emma let out a shriek, body bending with loud cracks like an unseen hand was crumpling her as if she were paper. Gold’s voice sneered through the dim, and Killian watched the man squeeze the keychain shaped token in his fist. Finally letting it go, Emma fell in a heap, her bones cracking back into place as she let out low cries.

“If I can’t hurt him, I’ll just stick to the basics.”

“Let her go.” KIllian lunged at the Demon, trying to grab the token in his hand. “Let her go!”

“Not until she gives me Belle, not until I have her soul, and even then her deal is forever. She was sold to me, and she will never -”

“Take me then. Trade her contract. A male siren is rare I’ve heard, even a halfling like me. Aren’t you tired of her?”

Emma moaned, and the Demon cocked it’s head.

“You? You’d forego your safety for her, and let me torture you?”

Killia glanced at Emma, her arm untwisting itself and resetting itself in the socket.

“It won’t be torture if I know she’s safe.”

“Shake on it, and the deal will be sealed. You will lend me your powers.” The Demon extended it’s hand, and Killian shook it without hesitation. He watched Emma take a gasp of breath, life eternal as she looked up at him in dread.

“Killian, no, what have you done, what have you -” Gold flicked a wrist and she fell silent, his mouth pulling wide as a crocodile snout pushed forward.

“You see, the fun thing about deals is the fine print, dearie. I don’t need a Siren, I never did, really. I needed one’s powers. I want that book keeper’s soul for my… collection. It’s a scrumptious find really. And now, you’ve lent me your powers of song, and I will have it giving willingly.” The Demon tittered gleefully, opening its crocodile maw, and pressing a clawed hand to its chest as if to clear its throat.

_Unforgettable_  
_In every way_  
_And forever more_  
_That's how you'll stay_  
_That's why, darling, it's incredible_  
_That someone so unforgettable_  
_Thinks that I am  
_ _Unforgettable, too_

Killian’s own voice flowed out of the Demon’s mouth, the thrum of thrall in every note.

“Oh, that’s good. I’ll even give it back when I’m done! Of course, you’ll be dead by then and so will your lover. I left that mind link intact so you can say your goodbyes. Enjoy your swim, detective, I think you’ll find that the tiny bit of siren blood you have won’t help you much.”

Gold waved his hand, and Killian’s stomach lurched, a sudden feeling of falling rushing over him, or no, he was falling, hitting water with force, chains around his body that ended in a spiked metal ball. Killian sunk in the water, it's freezing temperature seeping into his bones while Emma's frantic screaming for him filled his mind. She begged him to struggle against the heavy weight at his ankles that pulled him down to the dark bottom of the seafloor.

_**Emma, I'm alright, run. Run and I'll be right behind you, OK?** _

_You're lying to me, please, hold on. Hold on, hold on Killian, please don’t go -_

_**Finding you again meant everything to me. I would save you a hundred times, even if it meant this end. Go home, love.** _

_No, no, please, I love you, you’re my home too, please!_

_**I love you too, Emma. Don’t forget it.** _

_I never could, please, please, no, just hold on,_

_**Emma, you were my happy en-** _

Her screams hurt more than any water rushing in his lungs, a breath in that tore him apart, ice throughout his body. The cold began to burn, his fingers and toes tingling with what felt like electricity and heat like he’s touched an open flame. His eyes filled with dark blotches and he wished he could speak to Emma, tell her again how much she meant to him, but letting go is inevitable and comes with ease.

Death felt strange, and Killian felt himself drift into it with a vague sort of fondness.

He was being pulled apart, the water taking him and molding him into something that was still him, but also not.

His lungs no longer burned, the water providing no more resistance in his body than a breath of air. An experimental movement and it’s no different than what walking on land was like, legs now free of the chains as he passes through them. Squinting through what once was murky water, now vivid and alive, Killian could feel the pull of currents, the presence of others far off, the seabed and the patterned light that lit it. A push of his mind and he could feel a strange curiosity waiting for him at the other end, not like the intimacy Emma had shared in their own private link, but instead something larger, louder. It recognized someone new, and his panic at Emma being alone, the strange feeling of surprise as it came upon the name Emma.

Currents changed, waves growing choppy as a group moved towards his location. Killian had a feeling it wouldn’t be a welcome party, pushing to escape whatever this threat was. It thundered towards him at a gallop, Emma’s name echoing from it like a war cry, and Killian reached to touch the surface and go back to air, land, dry earth -

Killian came together all at once like the clash of a cymbals, hand gripping a dock, pulling himself up and onto the wood. Coughing up water, he looked out at the sea that was now churning and unnaturally green, a spring squall coming in fast as waves shook boats and wind ripped through sails.

Something was coming. He had to protect Emma.

He stumbled to his feet and ran, tackling the beast as it lifted Emma, the momentum causing the Demon’s claws to rip away her necklace and parts of the bodice piece of her gown. No longer protected, Emma cried out as the slashes bloomed. Ignoring the pain, she picked up a chair and hit Gold hard, Killian freeing himself with a roll from under snapping jaws.

Gold was fast still, and moved like a snake to strike again, the doors bursting off their old hinges as the entrance to the abandoned club was blown away. Regina stood in swirling purple smoke, pointing a finger at Gold.

“You caused this _idiot_ ,” Regina pointed to the stunned Killian, who was watching the deep plum smoke swirl and electricity begin to crackle around her, “To take my _fucking car_ , were going to _kill_ my _husband_ , and almost let Boston humans die because _I wouldn’t give you a soul_? I swear to the Old Gods, _you stupid fucking Demon_ , I’m sending you back to hell in a damn _doggy bag_.”

Magic exploded, tables splintering as Killian ran to shelter Emma, pulling a dusty table cloth to where blood was seeping through her dress. Gold hissed, Regina throwing spells at him in a rage, a huge boom coming from the wall facing the sea. The building slanted, it’s face giving way and pouring into the ocean. Wind and waves licked hungrily as tables and furniture slid into the depths, Killian catching Ms. French at the last second when her seat skidded past.

Regina pushed Gold towards the sea, and Killian stood, telling Emma and Belle to hold tightly as he helped Regina to the best of her abilities. Another flash of lightning and a wave rose, a man and a woman in its depths, the man attacking Gold in quick parries while the woman rushed to Emma’s side.

“And now!” Regina yelled, all of their attacks suddenly converging on one spot. Magic whistled through the air, a sword pommel sticking through the Demon’s chest, it’s body turning to ash.

Killian rushed to Emma’s side, but the woman who had stepped through the water was there, her brunette hair now cut closely cropped to her scalp. Emma smiled at them both, the necklace and swan pendant around her neck falling away into thin air. 

Emma touched the bare hollow of her throat where the chain had sat for so long, grinning through tears as she looked between her mother and Killian.

 “Mom, I want you to meet my true love, Detective Killian Jones.”

## EPILOGUE

With the bond broken, Emma took a breath without the golden collar that tied her to servitude for the first time in decades. She was free. She was _free_.

Her parents were here, and Killian, she could tell him everything. Everything. Her mom was laughing and hugging them both as Killian looked simultaneously bashful, ecstatic, and relieved, but Emma felt her heart freezing in her chest. She could tell him everything, all the lives she had ruined, the places where people worked under her thrall for Gold’s purposes, and her child, she had to find her son. Her sins laid out like one of the quilts she had on her old bed.

A hand cupped her chin, and she stared into eyes that matched her own save for the smile lines that graced his face. Her father, a brave warrior and empathetic man to a fault, pulled her into a hug while cradling her head. Between the four of them Emma felt her need for forgiveness ebb and flow, Killian filling her mind and so in love with her, her family holding her tight.

“I am so sorry, for everything.” Emma sobbed, and the hug got impossibly tighter.

“Oh, Emma, honey -” Her mother cried, and pressed a kiss to Emma’s hair.

“Emma you were young, there’s nothing to be sorry for, nothing to forgive.” Her father’s voice, clear and commanding, but choked with emotion. “We love you. We love you so much, and we’ve missed you.”

Killian finally managed to get free, stepping away to check on Belle and excusing himself.

_**Whatever you’ve done my love, whatever it forced you to do, I forgive you a thousand and one times. You can’t hold yourself responsible.** _

Emma was grateful for so much, but Killian’s soft voice in her mind soothing her worries was balm on an ache she needed.

_I love you._

_**Aye, and I’ll never tire of hearing those words from you.** _

“Emma…” Her mother, stroking her cheek. She looked so different with her hair shortened, her face only slightly aged. “We have to tell you, well. We need to show you or…”

“Maybe now isn’t a good time Snow -” Her father whispered. “She’s been through so much, I don’t know…”

“David, she deserves to know, and he deserves to see her.” Her mother’s face was set in firm determination, unable to be swayed. “Emma, there is someone who wants to meet you, and I think you’ll want to meet him.” Standing and straightening her skirts, her mother carefully strode to the water and called out something Emma could not hear.

A lanky boy rose from the waves, and Emma couldn’t help stare, Killian returning to her side at the feeling of her emanating shock.

“Grandma, are you okay? Did you find her?” The boy had taken after Neal, but his face, his chin, Emma stared in wonder.

“Emma, this is Henry. Henry, I’d like you to meet your mother.”

 

Henry was kind, brave, and loyal, Emma found after long talks with him. Her parents had raised him after he’d appeared with a sentry, the siren scared out of his wits by a demon he could not describe or name. The only thing the man could say was that it was Emma’s child, which was proven as soon as Snow had held him in her arms.

Killian held Emma at night when she returned from the sea, salt on her cheeks from the sea, and salt in her tears as she cried for a life she had missed. She cried for a home so changed she couldn’t navigate it, her parents quiet whispers when they thought she couldn’t hear, the stares of the gentry when she walked through the town or courtyard in the depths of her true realm.

“I’ll go with you, if you’d like. You know I’d be happy anywhere you are, darling.” Killian whispered into her skin.

“I don’t know if I want to. I love my parents, I love Henry, but…” She swallowed thickly. “I just need time to be.”

“Then let’s just be.” Killian squeezed Emma’s hand gently, and she nodded, curling into him before falling asleep fitfully.

 

It was easy enough to pack things away, giving boxes of their most valuable possessions to Granny while saying goodbyes and promising to visit. It was just starting to warm up, the taste of Spring faint in the air as new shoots went up and buds sprouted. Emma took Killian by the crook of the elbow, as they walked the streets together. The docks were quiet when they arrived, only the sound of the creaking boats and their footsteps as they approached the sunset. The water reflected purple, gold, orange, pink and yellow.

Killian gave Emma a twirl at the end of the pier, a gentle waltz move, before they tumbled in the water together laughing, falling through the thin veil of the realms.

 

Travel brought peace and closure to Emma, as well as Killian.

They visited his childhood homes, and watched the beginnings of war start again, now no longer their concern unless they chose it. A call went out along the icy far northern coast that neither of them understood, a strange amazement as something gave chase. Emma was unfamiliar with any of the far north tribes of Sirens or Nereid, deciding fleeing home was a better option for them, to which Killian agreed. There was a strange familiarity to the call, or push of minds, Killian told her later. It worried him, which in turn worried Emma.

A messenger came later, asking for their presence in the kingdom of the north, an uneasiness settling over Emma and Emma felt her mother’s worry as her own. The kingdoms had been at peace for ages, but when humans warred, the alarming trend was that Fae warred. Emma hugged Henry for ages, his worried eyes on her own as he told her to come back, her heart breaking when he called her ‘Mom’.

The trip was a few days swim, moving through currents and faults, jets and swells of wave. They arrived to a carved iceberg structure that had towering turrets and heated jets in some places, the siren greeting them an overly excited princess with braided hair that floated like a halo around her head.

“The King and Queen will see you now.” The excitement in her eyes made Killian more nervous, and Emma clutched his hand tightly, the doors opening to a throne room where a beautiful, stern, white haired woman sat on an ice throne, her clear blue eyes staring with happiness as she stood. The man next to her stood too, tall and broad shouldered, his eyes the laughing blue of Killian’s but so serious and -

“Liam?” Killian stared slack jawed, and Emma felt his grip tighten as her other hand rose to her mouth in surprise. “Liam, how? It can’t possibly be, this isn’t possible, you aren’t - Liam?”

“It’s been absolutely impossible to find you, you great sodding git.” The man that Emma could now see for Killian’s brother rushed forward, and they embraced, Killin speaking quickly and incredulously. Laughter, and a smile of pure happiness on Killian’s face that made Emma’s own chest ache with happiness distracted her to the Queen’s presence by her side.

“I suppose I should introduce myself. Queen Elsa, your soon to be sister in law.” She smiled, shyly. “That is, if Liam is right, and his little brother has a ring box in his pocket like he thinks.” She gave Emma a saucy wink and Emma smiled, watching until she was called over into a bear hug by Liam.

In a plush bed, in a guest suite, Killian and Emma laid in the afterglow of sex while she laughed with him at the journey they’d had. After patting his jacket pocket and finding a ring box earlier, as Liam had guessed, Emma smiled at the thought of all their adventures to come.

This time with a family, a love, and a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the potential sloppiness of this chapter. It's been a rough month. 
> 
> You can find me at Courtorderedcake on instagram/tumblr, and also on the 34th floor of the Wacker building in Chicago. Ask for Hank.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this piece was for @cssns, but I could never find a way to make it work. Even now, it is more romance than smut, but it’s definitely got smut in the later bits. For now, settle for a wet dream, and a very nice naked butt and boobs you can kiiiiinda see… if you zoom in to the picture provided here... (NSFW) 
> 
> https://66.media.tumblr.com/9effc0914f42db4d402104d3083785e6/tumblr_inline_pg7ji9YJ8L1scuv02_1280.jpg
> 
> The playlist for this piece will be released with the third chapter. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake. <3


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